


Tormented soul

by Cerone



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friendship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerone/pseuds/Cerone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 1: Set after the beheading of the orc in the Desolation of Smaug. Thranduil returns to his chambers, fearing a second Dagorlad.<br/>Chapter 2: Legolas finds out about his father's injury<br/>Chapter 3: Thranduil is recovering in Imladris<br/>Chapter 4: Thranduil takes part in a meeting of the White Council in Imladris and is deeply annoyed by a certain white Istar<br/>Chapter 5: Thranduil finally makes it to the library ^^<br/>Epilogue: After the destruction of the One Ring Elrond decides to sail with a heavy heart leaving Thranduil behind. Will Thranduil follow him even though he despises the Valar so much?</p><p>Thranduil turned out a little more tormented and dark than originally intended.^^</p><p>The relationship turns into something more in the epilogue. But the other chapters can be read by non-shippers as well (only friendship in them).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scarred

Upon entering his chambers, Thranduil removed his sword belt and threw it unceremoniously into one corner the large room. He couldn’t care less. His mind was elsewhere, back at Dagorlad, back where dread and fear had reigned. The same dread that now clutched his heart so strongly he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“I can’t do this again! I can’t go through this a second time!”, he told himself, leaning heavily on a sideboard.

Before he saw it, he felt the soft caress on his left cheek. He flinched slightly as he always did, when something touched him where he couldn’t see, because of his blinded left eye. Even though he knew exactly who had touched him and that this person meant no harm, but old habits die hard and he had never been able to switch of his warrior reflexes, that had saved his life countless times. And who could understand that better than the only person who dared to touch the ugly side of his being, the manifestation of the darkness, the shadow of bitterness and unscrupulousness that had taken residence inside of him a long time ago, when he had seen his men massacred and die a slow and painful, senseless death. Not even his wife had dared to touch him, where nothing but raw tendons were left, not even when the illusion he created was so strong, that it felt like touching healthy flesh and skin. He had seen it in her eyes, the repulsion, the disgust. It had shattered his self-confidence and boosted his vanity. He had been known as one of the fairest elves of Middle Earth and he still would be in the future. He became who he was now, a lone and bitter elf, but he wasn’t going to change that. Life was a lot easier with less people around that could potentially inflict heartache. Even his son he kept at arm’s length, never letting him in on his thoughts, never showing him his real self, his scarred inner being and his scarred face, out of fear of taking him down with him, when the time finally came when he would drown in the darkness that was within him. So he had learned to wield a sword with only half his field of vision, learned how to reach out for things without the perception of depth, he had learned to cope with his disability but not with his vanity, for like his wife he couldn’t face his real appearance, never had and never would, because he loathed the ugliness of it, the unelfishness of it.  
But he felt that now he was nearing his limit. He was tired, tired of fighting off the threats to his kingdom, which never ceased but increased the more they fought them. This fight for his kingdom, for his people, or what was left of them drained him of all his energy, left him with little reserve for what was to come, for what the orc had predicted, for a second Dagorlad. He had been there once and although he was now in his chambers, a part of him was at Dagorlad, now and always, would always be there and never leave, not even when he sailed. And he had no energy left to reign in his inner darkness. Every day he felt his control slip away a little more, felt his conscience being repressed by his rage, his lust for revenge and desperation.

“I didn’t expect you.”, he said, when he turned around to face his visitor, looking directly into the grey eyes of the Lord of Imladris.

“I felt your despair.”

“There is nothing new about me being in despair, Elrond. Even you couldn’t have missed that after so long a time.”

Elrond smiled, not taking the bait.

“I felt it growing stronger.”

“Well, it never shrank once.”

“There is always a first time for everything.”

“I admire your optimism, but there won’t be a first time for me.”

“Maybe it’s not optimism but foresight.”

“Then Peredhel, I fear your ability of foresight is weakening.”

“Does it trouble you again?”

It was a quick change of topic, but Thranduil had no trouble following Elronds line of thoughts. He knew perfectly well to what Elrond was referring. He shook his head.

“No, but I lost my temper and showed it to Thorin Oakenshield.”

Elrond looked surprised.

“So they made it to Mirkwood.”

“You knew they were coming?”

Elrond nodded.

“Mithrandir brought them to Imladris not long ago. I deciphered the map they had with them, a map of Erebor.”

“We captured them in the forest, but they escaped.”

A fact that made Thranduil still furious beyond words, but was diminished by the fear the orc’s speech had installed in his chest.

“We captured an orc.”

He turned away before going on.

“He was talking about his master serving the One.”

And Elrond knew at once what the Elvenking in front of him feared.

“Radagast found something in Dol Guldur. He gave it to Mithrandir to take it to the White Council. It was a Morgul blade forged for the Witchking of Angmar. He was telling us about a necromancer, who’s taken residence in Dol Gul-“

“This is not just about some necromancer!”, Thranduil cut in.

“Thranduil, we have lived in peace for over four hundred years…!”

Thranduil snorted and he felt a headache coming.

“Don’t tell me about peace! You might have lived in peace, while we are run over by dark creatures. Peace…”

He laughed a bitter laugh.

“I can’t even remember what it feels like to live in peace. So stop talking about peace with me. The elves of Imladris and the elves of Lorien know nothing about what is going on in Middle Earth. You in your sanctuaries, sheltered from the rest of the world, hiding behind your rings of power. You know nothing about the death we have to face here every day of our lives, the fear I suffer of losing my son, finding him in the woods, sliced open, beheaded, tortured, looking at me with his empty eyes, accusing me of letting them down, leading them into a war we couldn’t win, causing their deaths because I was too proud to be selfish, because I –“

“Thranduil!”, Elrond exclaimed, stopping his line of thoughts, bringing him back into his chambers in Mirkwood.

“You were in that dark place again, weren’t you?”

Thranduil turned away from Elrond trying to let it look casually by reaching for a carafe on a nearby sideboard, when he was indeed trying to hide the fact that he had indeed lost control over his mind again. He loathed, when he lost control, when his thoughts slipped his control, wandered freely. He poured himself a glass of wine, moving slowly to buy himself more time to compose himself.

“The orc said death is upon us.”, he tried to change the topic, back to the dangers that lay in the future, not in the past.

"The flames of war are upon us.”

Flames eating skin and flesh away, leaving nothing but bones, death and despair behind, like they did with him. Thranduil closed his eyes, feeling the painful caress of the flames on his cheek again, burning away not only flesh but also his care for other people, making room for his selfish pride.

“I don’t have a ring of power to fall back on…”, he said quietly.

“I can’t go through this again, Elrond… I simply can’t! I can’t go there again! I don’t think I have this much strength in me to go down this path again. I’m going to lose what little is left of me in the progress.”

Elrond touched his forehead and Thranduil heart his soft voice filling his head.

“Don’t go there, mellon nin. Stay with me. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad.”

And suddenly he could feel the wind… blowing through the valley of Imladris, slightly foaming the waters of the Bruinen, blowing over the highest summits of the Misty Mountains, stirring up freshly fallen snow into twisters, blowing over the vast lands of Rohan, caressing the blades of grass and blowing through the dark depth of the Mirkwood forest, playing with the leaves of the trees that were his home. He felt the energy flowing into his body, felt the dread letting go of his tortured heart and the peace of the blue sky seeping into his body, repressing the ever present memories of dead warriors watching him with their empty eyes from below out of the cold and clear waters of the swamps of Dagorlad, mocking him and his own survival of the war, for he had lead them there as their new king, sending them to their deaths, for nothing. The One Ring still existed and so did Sauron. He was certain of it, felt it in is tormented heart. He was still out there, waiting and preparing to seize power again, to bring death and torture about them all. But now at least he was freed of these dark thoughts. His mind was filled with the beauty of Middle Earth’s nature and he felt the strong connection to it once again. He felt himself breathing freely again, taking in the fresh and earthy smell of the forest and its inhabitants surrounding him. His mind again in the here and now more than it had been in the last few weeks, since Elrond’s last visit, since the last time Elrond had touched him with Vilya. He took his time, enjoying these feelings a little longer, getting new energy from them for what lay ahead, because he knew they wouldn’t last long. And when he opened his eyes again, Elrond was still there waiting patiently for him, smiling. Their eyes met and Elrond’s smile faltered just a little.

“When I look into your eyes I always feel like being back there in front of Mordor, fearing for my king’s and kin’s lives.” Then why are you ever looking at me, when I only remind you of the worst days of your life?

“I never left.” I ‘m still there, armed and bleeding, standing among the corpses.

“I know, but I am going to take you home.”

Thranduil turned away, shaking his head.

“That’s to no avail. Not even the birth of my son could bring me back from the fields of Dagorlad.”

“We will see, mellon nin.”

Mellon nin… Thranduil couldn’t recall the time and place when someone had last clled him a friend. He had always been a king and a father but not a friend. Until he went to Elrond to seek help, swallowing his pride and his hatred for the Peredhel. The last person in Middle Earth who would consider him a friend… at least that was what he had thought. It wasn’t often that he was proven to be so wrong.  
It had been a time, when the ever present pain in his jaw had intensified, driving him to the brink of madness. Legolas hadn’t been fully grown yet and even if he could only be a distant father, we wouldn’t have left his son so early in life. For he knew of the dreads that came with losing a father especially during a time when becoming a king was an especially hard task, as it had been for him in the middle of a raging war and as it would have been for young Legolas during a time, when dark shadows infested Mirkwood Forest. And he was the only parent Legolas had left.  
It had been a decision born out of pure desperation to go to the abhorred Peredhel and ask for his healing advice, a decision he had only made for his son, a son who would never know how deeply loved he was by his father.

_“King Thranduil.”_

_Elrond bowed his head slightly, demonstrating respect for the King of the Woodland Realm, while Thranduil just watched the Peredhel he so loathed. He himself didn’t bow his head. He was a king, the Peredhel a mere Lord, ranging below him. He would never bow to him, no matter what his family tree said about his noble inheritance._

_"What brings you here? We didn’t expect you.”_

_Thranduil was unimpressed by the politeness, by the show the Peredhel put on, when he knew how much the Peredhel must hate him because of what had been._

_“How could you? I didn’t send a messenger.”, Thranduil replied coldly, his patience wearing thin, because of this useless exchange of pleasantries, while the pain in his cheek grew from day to day. So he gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride._

_"I came to you for a consultation.”, he grinded out._

_He saw the surprise on the Peredhel’s face and for the first time it occurred to him that the Peredhel might refuse to help him. Deep down that scared him. This might be his only change, Legolas’ only change. He didn’t know how long he could still endure the pain without going insane._

_“A consultation? What about?”, the Peredhel asked, already looking for signs of an illness or a wound._

_Thranduil turned to his guards and sent them away. Nobody would see his real face, nobody but the Peredhel. When he turned back to the Lord of Imladris, he was still waiting patiently for Thranduil to go on. But Thranduil decided that he wouldn’t tell the Peredhel. He would let him see his real face, his ugliness without a warning. To see the Peredhel’s shocked face would at least be a small victory on the day he came crawling to this abhorred half-elven. Their eyes met and Thranduil chose that moment to let go of the illusion covering the missing part of the left side of his face and his clouded, dead eye. But instead of being shocked the Peredhel didn’t even flinch. Without hesitation he came over, stopping right in front of Thranduil._

_“A dragon’s fire.”, was all he said before taking a closer look._

_And then suddenly he felt the soft touch of the Peredhel's fingers on his chin turning his head slightly to have a better look. He flinched, taking a step back and looking dumbfounded at the Peredhel. No one had touched his face in hundreds of years. For hundreds of years he hadn’t felt the soft touch of another being on his face and the sensation, the mere experience of something so banal yet lost to him caught him off guard._

_“Did my touch hurt you?”_

_Thranduil shook his head, while trying to regain his composure, fighting for it._

_“No.”_

_Elrond looked at him with his penetrating storm grey eyes._

_“Is it sensitive to the touch?”_

_And again he was rendered speechless._

_“I… I don’t know. I haven’t touched it…” … in centuries, he finished the sentence in his mind._

_This consultation was slipping out of his control and he hated that fact. He had to get back in control._

_"It doesn’t matter. It hurts whether I’m awake or asleep and the pain is worsening. I need something against the pain!” His voice was stable again, hard and demanding, back to normal._

_But the Peredhel remained unimpressed and sighed._

_“What?” Thranduil’s impatience grew by the second._

_“I’m afraid I can’t help you. The wound is too old, to deep and inflicted by dragon fire… Maybe if the wound had been tended to properly at the beginning there would be a chance but I’m afraid it’s too late for that. A dragon fire is a strong magic weapon.”_

_Thranduil felt the panic rise in his chest. The Peredhel had been his only chance, the best healer in all of Middle Earth. He hadn’t thought about not getting any help here in Imladris. He had envisioned himself returning to Mirkwood without pain, had fantasized about it… but now… what about Legolas?_

_“There has to be something you can do!”_

_But Elrond shook his head._

_“Maybe you sailing to th-“_

_"I’m not going to sail to these damned Undying Lands! My place is here with my people, with my son! I’m not going to take the easy way out!”, he practically screamed._

_And the damned Peredhel’s only answer was a sign, followed by a long pause. The he took a deep breath._

_"I see.”_

_He raised his head, meeting Thranduil’s ice blue eyes with his storm grey ones._

_“I’m willing to try something on you, but there is no guaranty that it is going to work.”_

_“Do it!”, Thranduil answered without thinking it over._

_He was willing to risk nearly everything. Elrond nodded and rolled the right sleeve of his robe up, while coming over to Thranduil again. The Elvenking watched his every step till the Peredhel stopped right in front of him. The Peredhel raised his right hand to Thranduil’s scarred cheek and then Thranduil saw it, the golden ring with the blue sapphire… Vilya. He could feel the pulsating power, where the ring was close to his face. When Elrond laid his hand on Thranduil’s injured cheek , a pleasant cold radiated from the Peredhel’s hand into his burning, throbbing wound, soothing the pain almost immediately and Thranduil con’t hold back the sigh of relief that left his mouth, when he felt nearly free of pain for the first time in one century._

When he found his way back to reality, Elrond was still standing in his chambers. And again he was smiling. Sometimes Thranduil thought that the Peredhel was smiling too much on his account.

“You were lost in memories. Not the evil kind I suppose.”

Thranduil nodded.

“No indeed, not entirely bad memories.”

“Very well then. I hope I could ease your despair for the time being, mellon nin.”

“Your visit was quite welcome.”

This was all the thank the Peredhel would get from the Elvenking and he knew it. For Thranduil was a king scarcely giving his thanks to anyone, so the Peredhel knew that Thranduil was already making concessions.

“Farewell for now, vigorous spring.”

“It is just a name, Peredhel.”

“It might just be a name but it hasn’t been bestowed upon you for nothing.”

The Peredhel smiled but Thranduil chose not to reply. Instead he just watched the Peredhel disappear in front of him. Just don’t take wait too long till your next visit, he thought to himself, for he would never admit it aloud, but he always looked forward to talking to the peredhel. With him he could talk about topics he couldn’t discuss with the people inside his kingdom. He was their king, their leader and because of that he had to be distant, he had to make decisions free of personal preference but decision that where the best for his people as a whole. He couldn’t let them in on his thoughts, his decisions as a king, even though this meant that he would be a lone ruler.  
Elrond on the other hand didn’t belong to his people. With him he could talk about his thoughts and decisions without having to fear for his reputation. As the time progressed the regular meetings to ease the pain in his jaw which went along with polite political talk progressed to more frequent meetings which were not only about the ease of the pain but more about talking and exchanging thoughts not only on politics but on past and present experiences as well. Elrond had been there like him, fighting on the battle plain of Dagorlad, experiencing the same losses and physical and mental scars. With him he could speak about the dark thoughts lurking within him because of what he had experienced. He knew that Elrond wouldn’t be shocked or disgusted by his tormented state of mind, because Elrond could relate. Elrond accepted his bad tempers, his passive aggressiveness and cruelties, his vanity and his aloofness. For Elrond knew, that while some elves had overcome most of their traumatic experiences of the Ring War, had had the strength to fully recover from their physical and psychic wounds, had learned to live with what they had experienced, there were others, like Thranduil himself, had never been able to overcome the traumatic events. His soul would be dark and twisted till the end of time. There was no escape for him, only dilution but no deliverance…never.


	2. Buried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was finally able to upload the next chapter, but I have to say, that i 'm really not happy with how it turned out. I'm not good at writing "action" scenes and I sometimes felt like had forgotten all of my english skills... so I'm sorry for this bad chapter. I just wanted to create a scenario where Legolas would find out about his father being gravely injured. For that I needed a big distraction for Thranduil so that he would forget about hiding his injury... Maybe I am going to revise the chapter later.
> 
> I promise the next chapter will be better and Thranduil will show more of his arrogant side again. I love this side of him and really missed writing about it.^^ In the third chapter Thranduil is going to rough up a meeting of the White Council.^^ Aaaaand there will be a lot more of Elrond.^^
> 
> Thank you for leaving kudos! I appreciate it!

While the orc, who had been on the receiving end of one of the two elven blades he was wielding, collapsed in front of him, Thranduil was already focusing on the next orc, who was throwing himself at him, out of the shadow of his fallen comrade, but Thranduil was already expecting him, welcoming him with the raised tip of the sword in his left hand. He heard the faint cracking of breaking bones, as his blade drove into the body of his enemy, but he was all too familiar with that sound to even care. Instead he used his second blade to slice the throat of his enemy, ending the life of the orc, still hanging on his left blade. He felt himself sway for a blink of a second, feeling the exhaustion after hours of endless fighting. He took a deep breath, trying to force the exhaustion away. Just when he wanted to yank his blade out of the dead body, he felt a sudden movement of air on his left cheek, indicating that something big was coming his way with a high speed, where his vision was limited. A blink of a second later, when his brain had just given the order to turn to his left to receive what was coming, he felt the impact, a strong impact, knocking the air out of his lungs and him mercilessly to the ground.

He wasn’t sure if he had lost consciousness for a few seconds. He felt disorientated, when he reopened his eyes, laying on his right side, feeling the wet and blood stained ground beneath him. The water and blood leaked through his armor, wetting his undergarments. They clung to his skin and he could feel the cold seeping into his body replacing the warmth. It didn’t take long for his clothes to be fully soaked and he felt like lying in a swamp, a swamp like in Dagorlad, where he had been wading through the soaked ground, trying not to trip over the countless corpses of his kin, feeling the warm blood of the fallen warriors and the cold water of the swamps soak his boots and leggings, the additional weight making his every step more difficult, wearing him down, inviting him to just give up and lie down with his dead comrades to die.

Panic rose within him and he tried to fight off the vivid memories invading his mind. He told himself, he was not on the battle fields of Dagorlad! He was at the foot of Erebor, fighting a different battle alongside dwarfs and men. This was not Dagorlad! But he couldn’t fight them off, couldn’t fight off the pale hands of his dead people reaching for him, grabbing his ankles, his legs, pulling him down into the swamps, whispering into his ears, begging him:

_“Stay with us, Thranduil Oropherion. You led us here, King Thranduil, so stay with us!”_

In fear he tried to yank his legs free, struggling for his freedom, his life but they wouldn’t let go, instead he felt more and more hands grabbing his legs, pulling him into the cold waters, pulling him to his death and to insanity. He desperately clung to a nearby patch of high grass, holding on for dear life and sanity, as he watched the grass swing in a gentle breeze. Vilya! He focused his mind on the swinging grass blades, on the gentle breeze caressing his skin, pushing aside the ghosts of his past. He remembered Vilya’s cold touch, relieving him of his pains, forcing back his dark side of mind, restoring his sanity. He thought of the meetings, the talks and the silent companionship he had shared with Elrond, the only times he had felt at ease, felt at peace.

“Thranduil! Focus!”, someone shouted.

It took Thranduil a moment to realize that the voice had been in his head only but it had the effect the speaker had intended. Thranduil clung to it like a castaway clung to a drifting piece of wood, because this voice had been the only thing that had kept him sane over these last years.

“Elrond…”

“Thranduil! You have lost yourself again! Follow my voice! Stay with me!”

And this time he obeyed. He stayed with Elrond, followed his voice and when he opened his eyes again he was back in the here and now, lying on the ground at the foot of Erebor.

“Focus on your breathing. Don’t let your memories take over again!”

He did as he was told. He focused on his shallow breathing caused by his panic and forced himself to take a deep breath. Pain shot through his ribcage, forcing him to return to the shallow breathing. And then it hit him for the first time: something heavy was lying above him, pinning him down to the ground, making it so hard for him to breath, crushing him. The thing that had hit him must have buried him. He turned his head, trying to see what that thing was, but since he was lying on his right side he could barely see what was above him. He cursed his blind eye and tried to turn his body at least a little bit to the left. Out of the corner of his right eye he saw dark grey fur and it dawned on him that he must have been buried beneath a warg… a dead warg.

“Focus on your current problems!”

“I am focusing on my current problem, Peredhel! I’m buried under a dead warg during an ongoing battle! I’m… trapped.”

He was lying literally on a silver platter, being an easy victim to every orc passing by. Maybe this was how it should be… Maybe this was his destiny after all, dying here. Maybe destiny was finally catching up on him. Maybe he should indeed have stayed with his fallen warriors on the battle plain of Dagorlad, maybe he should have died with them and just maybe his nightmares showed him what should have been…

“Thranduil Oropherion, don’t you dare giving up right now!”

Thranduil sighed.

“Elrond, maybe –“

“Don’t you dare dying there! Not after surviving Dagorlad! Move!”

Thranduil didn’t move. He saw no reason for doing so, for fighting anymore. He was tired, so tired of all this.

“Thranduil, think of Legolas! Think of your son! You of all people know how it feels to lose your own father on the battlefield!”

“He won’t mind losing his father, I saw to it. He won’t break down like I have.”

“Are you sure? I saw his future. I saw him broken, in despair, ridden by guilt, crying over your dead body!”

No…

He had seen to it that the feelings Legolas had for him had weakened over the centuries even though it had hurt him deeply to drive away the only person he still loved. But in doing so Legolas wouldn’t have to face the same grief over losing his father like he himself had had to endure. And losing his father he would, either because he lost his sanity or because he was killed in one of the battles that were to come, brought upon them by the rising shadows.

Legolas wouldn’t break, wouldn’t end like his father. He would rise above and be a better king, a better leader than his father ever was.

“You are lying, Peredhel!”

“Thranduil, he never stopped loving you!”, the Peredhel said quietly. “He never will!”

No!

This couldn’t be true! He had put so much effort in forcing Legolas away. But… but what if the Peredhel was right? He couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk Legolas’ wellbeing. He wouldn’t let the same happen to Legolas that had happened to him.

Without losing another second he began to move, trying to wriggle himself out from beneath the warg, ignoring the stinging pain in his ribcage.

“Make use of the resources you have, however limited they are!”

“Peredhel…”, he ground out frustrated, _… stop stating the obvious_.

Sometimes the Peredhel could be really annoying. But the sudden surge of frustration gave him the strength to pull his left arm out from beneath the warg. Simultaneously he managed to turn fully on his back before the warg lay again on him with its full weight, crushing his already broken ribs and pressing the air out of his lungs once more. He felt bile rising in his throat as a reaction to the increasing pain in his chest and the lack of oxygen. The world around him spun for the blink of a second, alarming him, making him aware of how bad in shape he really was. In a desperate attempt to free himself he tried to push the warg away using his now free hand but it was to no avail.

“In need of help, Elvenking?”

Thranduil halted the attempt upon hearing the snarling voice from above the warg. He didn’t need to look up to know that an orc had uttered these words. He had heard these miserable creatures talk often enough. Slowly he raised his head and indeed an orc was leaning on the warg looking down on him and smiling an evil grin, showing his rotten and yellowish teeth. Thranduil didn’t lose any time. He knew, he would be dead any second, if he didn’t find something to defend himself, anything… He looked around frantically and indeed, not far from his left shoulder lay an abandoned sword.

“Don’t you think of it, Elvenking!” the orc hissed, jumping fully on the warg, sending a painful sting through Thranduils chest.

The orc crawled over the broad shoulder of the warg descending to the warg’s spine, bringing his face close to Thranduil’s. The sickening smell of the creature making his bile rise in his throat again.

“If I bring the beautiful head of yours to my master, he will surely give me a big reward, Elvenking.”

The orc reached out with his hand and Thranduil desperately wanted to back away, wanted to avoid the contact with this filthy creature but he hadn’t any chance. He felt the hand of the orc in his hair, felt it grabbing his diadem and ripping it out of his hair. Thranduil barely felt the pain the ripping out of some strands of his hair caused because it was negligible compared to the burning pain in his chest. The orc moved away a little, focusing on the diadem in his hand, turning and twisting it and Thranduil decided to use the state of distraction of the orc to his advantage, bringing his hand nearer to where he remembered the abandoned sword had lain, all the while watching the orc in front of him. Suddenly the eyes of the orc moved from the diadem to Thranduil’s arm and with a quick movement the orc drove his blade through it, pinning it to the ground. Thranduil couldn’t avoid a cry of pain leaving his mouth as he felt the blade driving through his flesh.

“I told you not to think of it, Elvenking!”, the orc hissed, spattering his foul saliva on Thranduil’s face. He put the diadem on his head, grinning, while he drew a second blade.

“Now, I’m the king and you are going to die!”

He raised the blade ready to strike and Thranduil’s thoughts were racing. He couldn’t die, he couldn’t leave Legolas alone, not yet!

_Make use of the resources you have!_

What resources did he have? He had nothing, nothing but himself and a dark and twisted mind… himself…

“I wouldn’t do that!”, he exclaimed, halting the orc, preventing the orc from burying his blade in his chest.

The orc looked at him doubtfully.

“And why wouldn’t you, you scum?”

Thranduil swallowed for he couldn’t believe what he was going to do.

“Because I’m like you!”

I’m like you. My soul is as dark and lost as yours and my face is so very similar to yours. Haven’t you been created by breeding tortured and mutilated Elves? I am a tortured and mutilated Elf, mutilated by the Great Serpents of the North, tortured by what they had taken from him, the beauty and health that made an Elf an Elf, tortured by memories of past losses and atrocities he had had to witness, by the dull pain in his cheek, consumed by constant self-hatred for what he allowed to happen to his kin and himself, for his incompetence and his psychic weakness. But maybe just this once, his inner and outer ugliness would save his life. Maybe just this once he himself could rise above his self-hatred.

And with that he let go of the illusion that covered his missing cheek and his blind eye. He could see the bewilderment in the orc’s eyes as the renowned beauty of the elves vanished from his face making room for the ugliness that was so similar to the disfigured features of these creatures. But in contrast to the orc, Thranduil didn’t hesitate, but seized the opportunity. With all the strength he had left, he jerked his left arm free, grabbed the sword and with one swift move beheaded the orc before the miserable creature knew what was happening to him. He watched the head of the orc, crowned with his diadem, rolling down to the ground, away from him and out of his sight. With a sigh he let his head slump to the ground, feeling how exhaustion finally took over.

“Ada!”

Thranduil heard the scream and opened his eyes, only to look directly into his son’s blue ones. Legolas was standing on the warg looking down on him, holding his two blades in his hands. They were stained with blood, as were Legolas’ clothes, but since his clothes were still intact, he assumed it was the blood of their enemies. He was relieved beyond words. His son was unharmed, at least physically. And then he saw the colour drain from his son’s face.

“Ada…”, Legolas whispered horror-stricken, letting go of his blades then he jerked his head around.

“I need help! I need a healer!”, he screamed.

He jumped down, landing next to his father, falling to his knees.

“Ada… what did they do to you?!”

Thranduil could see the despair in his son’s eyes as he slowly reached out to touch his face but never making contact. And then it dawned on him. He never renewed the illusion after letting it down to irritate the orc. He was lying here, bloodied and buried beneath a warg with half of his face missing. What a sickening sight he must be and yet Legolas was sitting beside him, concerned for his wellbeing although he most definitely didn’t deserve it, after pushing his son away as far as possible. He could see it in Legolas’ eyes that he wasn’t repelled by the ugliness of his father. He was afraid of touching him because he feared he would cause further harm. This wasn’t going as planned. Legolas shouldn’t still have such strong feelings for him, he shouldn’t be kneeling beside him, fearing to lose his father. He had thought that by now he had erased all the love a son could feel for his father. He had thought he had been as distant and indifferent as possible, that by now Legolas would be more or less indifferent to losing his father. That Legolas would be able to kill him in case his dark side took over, in case he became insane, became a danger to others. Obviously he had failed miserably and he wanted to be angry at himself but instead it made him proud. Legolas had been able to preserve his love for his father even though he had tried nearly everything to destroy it. Legolas’ believe in him had been stronger than his attempts of ruining their relationship. Legolas had been stronger than him. And worst of all, the Peredhel had been right.

“Ada, don’t worry! A healer is coming!”

Legolas jumped to his feet again, looking around, looking for the ordered healer.

“Come quickly!”, he screamed again, the fear of losing his father evident in his voice.

When he fell back on his knees his eyes wandered from his father’s face to the warg and back again.

“Everything is going to be fine, ada!”

“Legolas…”

He had to tell him.

“Don’t father… save your strength! Everything is going to be fine!”

Thranduil knew that Legolas was saying this more to reassure himself than him. He could feel the panic rising in his son, the panic of losing him here on the battlefield, like he himself had lost his own father.

“Legolas!”

He grabbed his son’s arm, forcing him to look at him.

“Legolas, it’s an old injury!”

With that he again created an illusion, covering up the scarred half of his face, presenting Legolas the face he had known all his life. Legolas looked at him disbelievingly.

“It’s an old injury I have had for centuries…”

“Ada… I don’t understand… You never told me… Why did yo–“

He was interrupted by a group of elves running around the warg, coming to help their king. And while Legolas backed away, making room for the healer his eyes never left the eyes of his father. And it felt like for the first time in his life he was able to see the true self of his father, the King of the Woodland Realm.


	3. At ease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry but this chapter was getting too long, so I decided to split it into two chapters. This means that you won’t read about Thranduil participating in the White Council meeting in this chapter. This chapter is some kind of an interlude and you can experience Thranduil in a more relaxed state. Maybe he is a little ooc... I don't know. ^^'

The sun was shining brightly and Thranduil was glad that he had traded his long robes for one of his tunics, which ended just above his ankles, making it easier to wander around in contrast to the long robes, which were far more suitable for the fresh forest air of Mirkwood, not for the warm sun that shone into the valley. Thranduil followed one of the stony paths leading away from the main buildings of Imladris. It was one of the lesser steep paths taking him upwards away from the more crowded places. He had walked this path many times since he had been able to walk the lesser steep paths. Up till now he could still feel a faint sting in his chest from time to time, when he asked too much of his convalescing body. At first Elrond had only allowed him to walk the even paths but when he had been feeling better he had strayed farer from the main buildings and one day he had ended up on the very same path he was taking now. He followed the path until the path began to run alongside one of the small brooks belonging to the Bruinen. There he left the path crossing the brook with one big step and wandered over a small meadow leading into a even smaller group of trees. The trees stood on a ledge from which you could look over a big part of the valley and over the main part of the Last Homely House. Thranduil walked over to one of the bigger trees and sat down at the root, leaning against the hard trunk. He missed the trees of his home, while on the other hand he enjoyed the open architecture of Imladris, which stood in high contrast to the closed and oppressive style of his kingdom. While this oppressiveness had always supported him and his decisions, had helped him to stay sane, he was now happy to stay under the vastness of the blue sky, something that had regularly scared him, and still would if it weren’t for Vilya protecting this valley with its magic and thus constantly him. He had always been afraid of losing himself in this never ending vastness, feeling exposed, unprotected, while in Mirkwood the oppressive structure had kept his inner being together like a thick outer shell.

The midday sun was warm on his skin and he closed his eyes, listening to the babble of the nearby brook and the song of a thrush, when suddenly he heard the sound of a blowing horn not far away and when he opened his eyes he saw a group of horsemen riding over the bridge that crossed the Bruinen. They wore the colours of Imladris. Obviously the Peredhel had returned from the orc hunt. But to his surprise he could also see the colours of Lothlorien among them. He hadn’t known that a delegation had been expected. But Elrond would have told him if it also concerned him. Obviously it didn’t and since he wasn’t the ruler of this realm, this was fine with him.

Thranduil woke because the thrush had suddenly stopped singing, alarming him to the new arrival. He opened his eyes and looked to his right, where the path lay. Elrond smiled as their eyes met. He had changed his clothes. The brown armor of Imladris he had most definitely worn on the orc hunt was gone. Instead he wore a dark blue tunic that had a similar cut to his own one, dark blue trousers and black leather boots. But while he could never wear such dark colours they went perfectly well with the dark brown hair of the Peredhel, which was as always skillfully plaited and crowned with a golden diadem. He in contrast never wore any plaits for he preferred his long hair flowing freely down his back. And instead of wearing his crown, which he never wore outside of his kingdom, he wore the silver diadem Elrond had given to him upon hearing that he had lost his in battle. It had been crafted especially for him, fitting perfectly. It was a masterpiece of elven craftsmanship and he was sure that Elrond had motivated his smiths to do their very best on the piece since he knew about Thranduil’s weakness for beautifully crafted jewelry. An obsession Thranduil had attained after losing half of his face, after losing his own beauty.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”, he heard Elrond say, disrupting his thoughts and Thranduil was thankful for that, for his thoughts had again wandered to a place he would rather avoid.

So instead of concentrating on his memories, he concentrated on the Peredhel.

“You and your kin don’t know how to walk through nature without disturbing it. You scared away the thrush, which was singing in one of the trees, making me aware of your presence.”, he said but he smiled, thus taking the edge off his criticism.

“I beg your pardon, Elvenking.” Elrond bowed exaggeratedly, showing Thranduil that he wasn’t in the least bit offended.

Thranduil responded with a nod of his head.

“I gladly accept your apology, Lord of Imladris.”

He smiled for he really enjoyed these little banters they frequently had since his arrival in Imladris. For the first time in ages he felt sufficiently at ease to banter with someone and he was certain that he also owed this to Vilya and the constant influence it had on him in this valley.

“How are you feeling today?”, the Peredhel asked, bringing Thranduil once more back to reality, like he so often did.

“Not well enough for my own liking but well enough to yours I assume.”

Elrond nodded, understanding perfectly well. The Elvenking was an impatient patient, while Elrond was very satisfied with the Elvenking’s recovery, for his injuries had been grave ones.

“No chest pains?”

Thranduil shook his head and quickly changed the topic for he hated to talk about his wretched health, no matter if mental or physical.

“How was your hunt?”

Elrond accepted the change of topic, for he knew that Thranduil had long passed the critical states of his physical injuries. As long as he didn’t do something really stupid, the Elvenking should be fine.

Elrond crossed the meadow and stopped right next to Thranduil and like him he turned to look over the valley. He sighed. Normally Thranduil didn’t like people standing too close to him, like he didn’t like people being emotionally too close to him. He averted his eyes from the valley below him and watched the Peredhel. He seemed to be lost in thought, focused on the horizon and Thranduil wondered what the Peredhel saw in the distance. Was he hearing the call of the Undying Lands like so many other Elves? Like so many except for him. He had never heard the call of the sea. And he was certain, he never would. And in contrast to him, somebody was waiting for the Peredhel on the other side of the sea, a beloved person. For him there was nobody waiting. Even if his wife had already left the Halls of Mandos she would definitely not be waiting for him, for the man she couldn’t even touch without being disgusted, after he had trusted her and showed her his real self. Just one of the last pieces of the puzzle that had led to his downfall and another reason why he let nobody too close anymore. But with the Peredhel it was different. He didn’t feel the usual uneasiness he normally felt when people stood too close to him, around him he felt at ease, comfortable. Maybe because the Peredhel was like a calm anchor in this fast moving and cruel world. Or just because he was the bearer of Vilya.

“We found the horde of orcs that lingered near the Bruinen. It was a short fight and there were no casualties on our side.”

Thranduil turned his head back to the valley.

“So you were successful.”

Elrond shifted slightly beside him.

“Successful in eliminating this one horde? We were indeed. But it bothers me that more and more orc hordes are trying to cross the Bruinen.”

Thranduil understood perfectly well. He too had to face the increasing numbers of orcs and spiders entering his kingdom. He too had to fight this endless war.

“But let’s not talk about this topic any longer for it saddens my heart. I received word from my sons this morning. Obviously and to my relief your kingdom still exists even though they have been there for the past few months. The message included a letter for you from your son.”

Thranduil took the letter Elrond handed him and looked at it for a moment. He couldn’t believe how their relationship had changed just in a few months. After the battle at the foot of Erebor, while the healers had tended to his injuries, Legolas had questioned him mercilessly. First he had been reluctant but Legolas’ constant inquiries combined with the pain caused by his crushed torso had led to his surrender. He had told Legolas about his injury and the misery that had ensued. And Legolas had listened without interrupting him or judging him. And when his condition didn’t change after one week, it had been Legolas, who had proposed to send him to Imladris to recover under the care of Elrond, who had helped him through worse. He had been reluctant to leave his kingdom but Legolas had ensured him that he was perfectly capable of leading the kingdom for a few months and that it would be the perfect chance for a change of scenery, something that might take his mind off his dark and painful memories. He had consented for he had felt his body weakening and his dark thoughts strengthening day by day. Legolas had accompanied him on his trip to Imladris and after assessing Thranduil’s injuries and calculating that it might take months for him to recover, Elrond had sent his sons to the Woodland Realm together with Legolas, so that they could assist the young prince in time of need. For that Thranduil had been thankful for he had feared that his son might have underestimated the task of ruling the Woodland Realm. But having the experienced twins of Elrond with him as support, he was certain Legolas would succeed. And the frequent letters from his son told him he had been right. Legolas was thankful for the support.

“I thought your sons would ensure the endurance of my kingdom during my absence, not increase the risk of its ruin.”, he teased the Peredhel.

“Why do you think did I send them away to your kingdom? I feared for my own realm.”, the Peredhel replied in jest.

“I see. Maybe I should reconsider the alliance with your realm, Lord Elrond.”

“I beg you not to do that! It took far too long to forge this alliance.”

Thranduil knew that the Peredhel was right. It had taken them far too long but he also knew that it had been mainly his fault. He had never needed anyone. He had been fine in his isolated kingdom, at least fine enough to go on with his life until the pain had become too much to bear. Only then had he left the isolation. And to tell the truth, until now it hadn’t been as bad as he had thought it would be. Quite the contrary, he had gained an ally, a confidant, something he hadn’t had for centuries. And even though it was exhausting to control his effervescent temper from time to time in order to not drive away Elrond, something he didn’t have to do for quite some time because there simply had been none to drive away, he began to see the positive side of having someone to trust in.

“I’m going to leave you alone, so you can read the letter undisturbed.”

Elrond was about to turn away but Thranduil stopped him.

“There is no need for that. Since you already told me the most important part about my kingdom, there is no need to read the letter right now. Stay with me, Peredhel, at least for a few moments.”

Elrond smiled.

“As you wish, Elvenking.”, he said and sat down beside Thranduil, looking over the peaceful valley.

Neither of them spoke for quite some time and Thranduil just enjoyed the silence he shared with the Peredhel. And when Lindir arrived, calling for Elrond, telling him that there were some matters that required the attendance of the Lord of Imladris, Thranduil felt a tinge of disappointment that the Peredhel had to leave.

When dusk began to fall and Thranduil just rose to walk back down into the valley, he saw Lindir coming towards him from the valley below. Lindir bowed his head to greet him and Thranduil waited patiently for Lindir to tell him, why he had come to him.

“King Thranduil, Master Elrond sends me to invite you to a meeting.”

“A meeting? What about?”

The Peredhel hadn’t mentioned any meeting he should participate in while they had sat together. This was news to him. He had planned on going to the library and having dinner afterwards.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you what kind of meeting it is.”

“What do you mean by you can’t tell me what kind of meeting it is?”

He narrowed his eyes to slits, fixating the other elf, trying to figure out what he was playing at. But when Lindir began to squirm under his scrutiny and lowered his eyes it dawned on him that Lindir wasn’t intentionally keeping secrets from him but he indeed didn’t know what meeting it was.

“A secret meeting, then. Who is going to attend?”

Again Lindir didn’t answer but Thranduil already suspected that it had something to do with the delegation from Lothlorien, which had arrived this morning. Thranduil sighed.

“I see… Do you at least know where this ominous meeting is being held or do I have to search all of Imladris.”, he asked nonchalantly.

Since finding out that Elrond’s right hand could be disturbed so easily he enjoyed teasing Lindir far too much. It took Lindir a few seconds to regain his equilibrium.

“Does this mean you wish to attend?”

Thranduil couldn’t deny that this secret meeting had piqued his curiosity.

“Yes, lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of see the diadem Elrond gave to Thranduil not as a gift from Elrond to Thranduil but more like a gift from one realm to another. I think Elrond thought it to be a useful and suitable gift to officially show that he is glad about the forging of the alliance between both realms. Since the “friendship” they shared, before Thranduil came officially to Imladris to seek out Elrond’s healing powers, was kind of secretive.


	4. Limits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I messed a little with Tolkiens’s timeline and I borrowed a few lines from the White Council meeting of first hobbit movie… just if you are wondering where you have already heard Saruman talking such nonsense. ^^
> 
> I fear Thranduil is going to be more and more ooc.

Elrond was the last person to enter the gazebo overlooking Imladris. Gandalf was just taking the seat opposite to Saruman at the table in the middle of the gazebo, while Galadriel was looking over the valley below them, standing with her back to the others being present. Celeborn was standing to the side facing inwards, bowing slightly when his eyes met Elrond’s. Elrond returned the greeting and greeted Gandalf and Saruman the same way. He decided not to sit down and went over to one of the columns.

 “I think we should begin now.”, Saruman suddenly said.

Elrond wanted to object but Galadriel beat him to it.

“I think we are not yet complete.”, she said quietly still not facing them.

Three heads turned simultaneously to Elrond. Celeborn raised a questioning brow, while Gandalf and Saruman just gave him questioning looks. Elrond sighed and looked at Galadriel who had turned slightly giving him a warm smile then his look wandered back to the Istari.

“At the moment I have a guest here in Imladris and I invited him to participate in this meeting. I think, he will be a great asset.”

He just hoped that it would work out, knowing Thranduil and his rather short-lived temper, especially since Thranduil was used to acting alone, his kingdom being isolated for so long a time.

“This is not some public meeting everyone can participate in. I would have preferred to know about this addition beforehand.”, Saruman said with a slightly annoyed undertone.

And again, before Elrond could say anything, Galadriel had already done so.

“I am looking forward to seeing him again. We haven’t met for quite a long time.”

She smiled at him, her eyes glimmering in the sun and he knew what she was doing. She was showing him that she supported his decision to invite Thranduil and it kind of relieved him to know that she was on his side in this matter.

“I sent for him. He will be there any minute.”

Saruman sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Well then.”, he said but not without giving Elrond another annoyed look.

And Elrond already felt like returning to his library.

 _“Do not let him bother you. You did the right thing in inviting him. Things are going to change now.”_ , she told him.

He just hoped she was right.

_”Have faith in him and his headstrong, arrogant character!”_

_“This character of his is what is bothering me the most!”_

_“This character of his is what makes him so different from all of us, what makes him the perfect asset, Elrond.”_

Elrond wasn’t entirely convinced but he didn’t have the time to contemplate it any further.

“Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm!”, Celeborn suddenly exclaimed, looking past Elrond down the path that led to the gazebo.

Elrond turned and together they watched Thranduil ascend the slope leading to the gazebo.

When Thranduil entered the gazebo he saw five people looking at him.

“King Thranduil.” Celeborn addressed him first, bowing his head slightly.

His wife Lady Galadriel stood by his side and greeted Thranduil in the same manner. But in contrast to her husband she awarded him with a smile. Thranduil didn’t bow his head. In Middle-earth they ranked below him. The same applied to both of the Istari who were present. They might be Maiar in Valinor, a land that meant nothing to him, but here in Middle-earth they were just two wizards, ranking far below him. He would only ever bow to king. Gandalf inclined his head.

“King Thranduil.”

But when Thranduil looked at Saruman the White, the wizard did neither bow to him nor welcome him at all.

“Finally we can begin.” , was all he said and Thranduil despised him from that moment on.

He owed him respect for he was the one that outranked him, he was the only king present! Just as he wanted to open his mouth to say something he saw out of the corner of his eye that Elrond made a step towards him, halting him. Elrond had invited him to this meeting, so technically he was his responsibility. He closed his mouth. His first action wouldn’t be to put the Peredhel to shame, to make him regret inviting him, not when he owed the Peredhel so much. He took a deep breath and decided to be at his best behavior at least as long as possible. He turned away from the Istari and went over to one of the columns, leaning against it, watching the meeting unfold in front of him.

Saruman folded his hands on the tabletop.

“So Gandalf tell me, are you happy now that the dragon and Thorin Oakenshield are dead?”

The White Istar focused on the Gandalf, who averted his eyes, looking at his hands that lay on the table top.

“I really don’t know why we are meeting again after so short a time.”

So they must have talked about the quest of the dwarves, Thranduil thought.

“I told you, I wasn’t in favor. I knew it would not end well.”

“But the Kingdom under the Mountain has been restored.”, Celeborn interjected.

“This could prove quite useful in the future, even though it was dearly bought.”

Thranduil closed his eyes, trying to fight the surfacing memories of the dying men, dwarves and elves.

”Useful for what purpose?”

 _Death is upon you. The flames of war are upon you._ Thranduil still saw the orc kneeling in front of him, laughing at him and his son. He had to agree with Celeborn. The restored kingdom under the mountain would indeed be useful when Sauron returned.

“There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful. We can remain blind, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you.”

 _My master serves the One._ Thranduil’s blood ran cold.

“So first it is Smaug that troubles you, now it is Dol Guldur. What is it next time, Gandalf?”

Gandalf looked around before focusing on Saruman again.

“Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs and wargs have fought against us at the foot of Erebor.”

“More and more orcs are crossing the Bruinen. Just this morning we had to fight off another horde of orcs. The third this month”, Elrond added and Thranduil remembered the many times the Peredhel had left Imladris right after breakfast since he himself had been in Imladris in order to fight orcs.

“I don’t see what this has anything to do with Dol Guldur.”

Gandalf shook his head helplessly.

“A sickness lies over the Greenwood.”, he tried another approach and Thranduil perked up his ears upon hearing his home being mentioned.

“The woodsmen living there now call it ‘Mirkwood’”

Five heads turned to him, obviously waiting for his confirmation or contradiction.

“Hordes of orcs and the children of Ungoliant are infesting the Greenwood in such high numbers that my men can barely eradicate them and their nests. They are coming from Dol Guldur.”

Saruman sighed.

“So let us examine what we know. Single Orc packs have dared to cross the Bruinen. Last time you showed me a dagger from a bygone age that has been found. And according to Radagast and some woodsmen a human sorcerer, who calls himself the Necromancer, has taken up residence in the ruined fortress. And spiders are infesting the Greenwood. In fact that is not so very much, after all.“

Thranduil couldn’t believe his ears. The White Istar had to be joking. How could he not see, what all of them saw? How could he be so blind and not notice what was happening around him? That something was happening around him, something evil.

“Six thousand orcs and five hundred wargs fought against us at the foot of Erebor. If single hordes of orcs, a Morgul blade, a necromancer and giant spiders are not so very much at all, what is an organized army to you then?”

“They were after Thorin Oakenshield and the treasure of Erebor.”

Thranduil pushed himself off the column he had been leaning on and turned towards the exit of the gazebo. It took him every ounce of self-control he had not to shout at the White Istar. He decided to leave before his temper got the better of him.

“Where are you going?”, Elrond asked.

Thranduil stopped and turned to face them.

“I’m going to do something that is not such a waste of time like this meeting. Maybe I’m going to count the trees on both sides of the Bruinen in this valley so that I can compare their numbers in order to determine on which side the soil is more fertile.”

“King Thranduil, this Council discusses serious threats to Middle-earth.”

“Really? All I see are four people that care for Middle-earth and one person that is blind to the latest events that point to a revival of evil.”

“There are no events that point to a revival of evil, Elvenking!”

Eru knew he had tried to reign in his temper but he couldn’t anymore, not when he had to deal with such hopeless stubbornness.

“Just in case the message didn’t reach you behind the thick walls of Isengard. My kin together with dwarfs and men were slain, fighting a battle against orcs and wargs at the foot of Erebor only a few months ago. If this isn’t a serious threat, what is?”

“It was an unnecessary battle caused by a few greed-driven dwarfs. They willingly risked the established peace!”

Thranduil couldn’t control his fury anymore. With a swift movement he brought his fists on the table and his face near to the face of the White Istar, simultaneously letting down the illusion, which covered his face. He could see the appall in the Istar’s face, when he beheld the grave injury, fueling the anger and hatred Thranduil felt for the Istar even more.

“There is no such peace, you fool!”, he spat. “Maybe for you in your isolated tower but not for us, not in the real world.”

He looked into the Istar’s eyes, looking for understanding but there was none, instead he saw that his eyes were still fixed on his missing cheek.

“Tell me, Saruman the White, what are you waiting for? For Sauron to turn up in full armor to reclaim what was once his?”

“There is no evidence that he has returned.”, the Istar replied calmly.

Thranduil straightened again and a sharp sting drove through his chest. He knew that his previous movements had been too rushed.

“There never is, but someday there will be and then it might be too late. Sauron is no fool. In his supposed weakened state wouldn’t it be utterly unwise to leave evidence? He will leave evidence as soon as he is ready to face the free people of Middle-earth again.”

He could feel the difficulty his body had taking in enough air and he knew he had pushed too far beyond the boundaries of his weakened body.

“As far as I see, all of us here are ready to risk the lives of our people in order to save their future. So tell me Curunir, why are you so reluctant, you who has no people to send into battle, no people to lose to death? What is at stake for you besides losing your own life? Is it just you being so afraid of dying, putting your life above everyone else’s? Or is there something you aren’t telling us?”

Again he was looking into the eyes of the Istar, which were now looking straightly back at him and he could see the anger rising in them as well. The Istar wasn’t used to someone openly question his views, to someone stepping on his toes, he fathomed. But he couldn’t care less. There was so much more at stake than just the temper of one single Istar. He took another breath and when he saw the world spinning for a blink of a second, he knew he had to leave. He wouldn’t risk showing his weakened state to the mightiest people of Middle-earth. He faced the others. Celeborn and Gandalf were looking at him in astonishment, while Galadriel was smiling at him. Elrond in contrast had come a few steps towards him, looking quite concerned. He must have felt his uneasiness.

“If you would excuse me, I don’t see any point in me partaking any longer.”

He turned and started to walk away, recreating the illusion covering his injured face.

 _“Do you need any help?”_ , he heard Elrond asking in his head.

 _“I’m fine. I just need some rest.”_ , he answered in the same way and without looking back, he left the gazebo.

 

Thranduil wandered through the halls of Imladris, his destination being the library. He was deep in thought, thinking that it might be time to return to his people. He was far from being fully recovered but maybe it was for the best to leave Imladris and secure his kingdom against what was to come. The unwillingness to take action he had seen in the White Istar’s eyes had concerned him deeply. This White Council was a farce and his guts were telling him to take matters in his own hands… again. They didn’t have to fear for their peoples’ lives for either they had no people or they possessed a ring of power. He was positive about the fact that one of the elven rings resided in Lothlorien, that Galadriel was the bearer of at least one of the other two elven rings. He knew the story about Celebrimbor favoring Galadriel. Most certainly he had given one of the rings to her in order to win her over, maybe even both rings. He should leave as soon as possible. He turned a corner and stopped dead in his tracks. He was standing in the hallway dedicated to the Last Alliance, a hallway he had constantly avoided, since he had seen it for the first time. This first time he had literally fled the hallway without looking back for a second time. It had been too much for him to bear and it was still, but his feet wouldn’t obey his command. His eyes were fixated on the wall painting depicting Isildur wielding the hilt-shard of Narsil, fighting off Sauron. He took a step forward, his feet sinking into the muddy ground, making his every step an additional exertion. Still fixated on the wall painting he took another step forward, feeling the weight of his armor pressing down on his tired shoulders.

He looked behind him, seeing some of his warriors in fights with orcs, some came to the help of others. One of his men came running to him, saying something to him but he didn’t hear a word he was saying, he just heard the sound of an arrow passing by his ear, the movement of air its passing twirled his hair, and the sickening sound of the arrow finding its target, the forehead of his warrior. The warrior stared at him, his eyes wide open in shock and realization that he would die and Thranduil could see how the fear of dying in his eyes was slowly replaced by death itself, as the warrior fell to the ground, where his dead comrades already lay. Thranduil whirled around but the hissing sound he heard already told him what was to come. The impact was a strong one, throwing him to the ground while pain exploded in his left shoulder. He grabbed the thick black arrow and pulled it out of his body, screaming in pain as he pulled out some pieces of his own flesh along with it. He tried to get to his feet again, pushing himself off the ground but his good hand, supporting most of his weight, sank into the ground. When he turned his head to look for a more suitable place to place his hand, he saw that his hand hadn’t sunk into the ground but into the torn open ribcage of one of his men, squashing what was left of his innards. He jolted backwards, fighting the sudden feeling of nausea rising in his throat, as he watched pieces of crushed innards falling from his hand drop by drop. He gagged and looked away but just saw elf after elf around him massacred. He fought back the tears that threatened to fall, desperation overwhelming his heart. Why? Why did the Valar let this happen? Why? Sauron was a Maia! They had taught him, given him the knowledge he had used against Middle-earth! Where were they now? Watching from across the sea out of harm’s way as elf after elf was slain because of their lapses!

“We are dying here!”, he screamed in desperation.

But nobody ever answered. And it was there on the battle plain of Dagorlad that he swore he would rather kill himself than ever demonstrate respect for neither Valar nor Maiar again if he ever came across one.

“Trolls!”, he heard someone scream and jerked around.

A horde of trolls came towards what was left of his army. Some of his warriors remembered to form a deep formation, welcoming the trolls with their arrows, trying to wreck as much havoc as possible as long as there were still at some distance, while others unsheathed their swords and mindlessly ran towards the trolls and to their deaths.

“No!”, he screamed.

“Come back!” But it was to no avail.

“Come back…”, he whispered, as the first of his men were crushed by the trolls.

One of the trolls got hold of one of his man, lifting him from the ground and with both hands the troll tore him in two, while his screams of pain rang in Thranduil’s ears. The troll threw away the lower part of the body but kept the upper part of the still screaming warrior to use it like a morning star against the other elves surrounding him, attacking him with arrows and swords alike. The troll howled in agony as one arrow hit him in his eye and he continued to lash out at the elven warriors to his feet, scattering the innards of the elven warrior in his hand over the battle plain. Thranduil fought the nausea back and coldness enveloped his heart like a shell made of cold steel. He took his sword and ran towards the troll. He wouldn’t let his people die, while he lived on. If they wouldn’t survive then he would die with them!

A horde of orcs came forth behind the troll and Thranduil ran directly towards them, hoping, begging that one arrow would pierce his heart or one sword would slice open his throat so that he no longer had to watch his people being slaughtered, so that all of this horror would finally end, at least for him. He drove his sword through one orc after another not noticing the lacerations he obtained while doing so, for he was far too focused to even care. When no further orc came forth, Thranduil used the opportunity to take a few deep breaths. He was so tired, his hands were shaking and sweat ran down his temples. His legs were so weak, he feared they would collapse beneath him. He leaned on his sword. He just wanted to close his eyes for a moment, he just wanted to sleep for a moment… just for a small moment he wanted peace… he was so tired. Suddenly a bloodcurdling scream resounded over the battle field, jolting him out of his half-sleep. And before he had a chance to even look for the source of the scream, he saw a huge shadow gliding over the countless corpses spread over the battlefield. Thranduil’s heart froze as he beheld the silhouette of the shadow. He lost his sword as he recoiled from where shadow was now circling. He didn’t get far before he tripped over something most likely another corpse or part of a dead body and fell to the ground. Panic rose in him, clenching his heart, as he crawled away as fast as possible. His heart hammered in his chest as another bloodcurdling scream sounded not too far away. He didn’t dare to look back, as he heard the shadow landing not far from him. No! His heart stopped for a second, as silence fell over the battle plain and only the shuffling of leathery wings and heavy breathing could be heard. No! He felt the dragon’s fire eat away his face, felt flesh melting away from his bones, felt the pain exploding in his cheek, traveling through the rest of his body until his whole body felt like being aflame, burning, screaming distracted with pain until he had passed out. No! He tried to reign in the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. Not again… it wouldn’t happen again!  Frantically he looked around searching for any kind of weapon. He saw a hilt poking out of a dead orc lying next to him. Another scream sounded behind him and with the last ounce of courage he had left I him, he took the hilt, pulled the sword out of the orc while turning around and pushing himself to his feet, facing the monster. He stared directly into the throat of the black shadow while his brain slowly registered that the sword he had drawn had been broken and he only wielded the hilt-shard. The beast let out one of his bloodcurdling screams and attacked him. A blink of a second before the monster would have buried his teeth in his flesh, a bright ray of light broke out of the beast. So bright, that it hurt his eyes and he had to cover them with his hand. And to his confusion the scenario in front of him slowly dissolved until everything around him was just bright light and nothing of Dagorlad was left.

When the light finally began to fade and his surroundings became clearer once more, they were totally different to where he had just been. Elegant wood carvings appeared in the corners of his eyes.

“King Thranduil.”

The voice was commanding but soft and helped him to focus on the bright figure standing directly in front of him. He blinked a few times and the brightness lessened gradually until he could identify Galadriel as the figure standing right in front of him. He felt her hand on his chest, which was rising and falling quickly and when he looked down at her hand, he saw a brightly shining ring on her finger… the Ring of Adamant.

“King Thranduil.”, she said again and he focused on her face.

She was smiling at him, it was a soft smile.

“Remember where you are." 

He tried to remember but he was too confused. He had been at Dagorlad not a few seconds ago. He had fought against orcs and trolls, had seen how his people had been slain. What was she doing here? Here… He looked around. He was standing in a wide and open hallway with elegant woodcarvings everywhere. It seemed slightly familiar but he couldn’t quite place it yet. But when he saw the many Noldarin elves looking at him with wide eyes it began to dawn on him. He was in Imladris, where he was recovering from a serious injury, over three thousand years after the Battle of the Last Alliance. Slowly he raised his right hand which had wielded the hilt-shard he had pulled out of the orc. It was still there, being cold to his touch. But it wasn’t just any hilt-shard… It was the hilt-shard of Narsil, which had been on display in this very same hallway. Hi gaze wandered to where the shards normally lay… they were gone, lying scattered on the floor. He had lost control… again. He let go of Narsil and it hit the floor with a loud clanking sound. He had lost himself so utterly and completely… He numbly backed away from Galadriel, all the while looking at his now empty hand with wide eyes. When he hit a nearby wall with his back, he slumped down to the floor and only then did he look up at Galadriel again.

“I’m losing myself.”, he stated bleakly.

Galadriel had watched him silently but suddenly she sprang into action.

“Leave us alone!”, she commanded and all the elves surrounding them obeyed.

A few seconds later they were alone.

“I have touched you with Nenya, so your memories won’t bother you for some days.”, she said, kneeling down in front of him, all the while smiling at him warmly.

“But they will resurface like they always do.”

“Isn’t that what memories normally do, the bad and the good ones?”

“I know.”, he ground out.

He was no elfling anymore. But he had so much more bad memories than good ones.

“Do not despair, Elvenking. I can feel that you have been frequently touched by Elrond.”

“Vilya eases my pain.”

Galadriel laughed.

“I wasn’t talking about Vilya. The power of the Elven Rings is limited. Compassion and love aren’t.”

“And yet he wasn’t able to heal your daughter, his beloved wife.”

“All is lost, when you fight alone. Elrond fought, but my daughter wanted to leave Middle-earth behind. It was her decision, not his.”

She sighed and Thranduil was certain that for the blink of a second he had seen weariness in her eyes.

“He has fought alone for such a long time. I’m glad he again found someone to fight with.”

She was looking at him and he was sure she was talking about him.

“You are wrong. I’m not one to fight with. There is nothing I could give him save for darkness and madness. This is a one-sided arrangement.”

“Now you are wrong, Elvenking. Sometimes companionship of someone who went through the same traumatic events, who understands perfectly well what standing at the edge of despair and black desperation is like, is all that is needed and companionship I see between you two, even though you are not aware of it.”

“There is nothing of this desperation left in the Peredhel.”

“Maybe not during the day but when the night rises and the shadows reside in every corner, do you know if the Peredhel is able to face his own Dagorlad without fear?”

He looked at her in surprise.

“I have looked into many eyes of warriors returning from the horrors of Sauron’s battlefields. Many of these eyes were as dead as the eyes of their comrades that had left for the Halls of Mandos. Others were like yours: dead at first sight but upon taking a closer look a small flame still burning in the background could be seen. There are others like you, even though the young might never grasp what all of you went through, what horrors were burned into your memories, what you suffered to secure their future. But when I look into your eyes, into Elrond’s eyes, into the eyes of my own husband I can see that you haven’t left every piece of you on the battle plains. All of you brought back an essential piece of you, your fighting spirit, your will not to succumb to the madness that was your sole companion on the battlefield. I don’t see any weakness in you, all I can see is your strength, your will to go on in spite of knowing what evil, what darkness lurks in this world, your will to face every new day. You are still here, you are still fighting, you endure the pain, you have not yet sailed.”

“And I never will.”

And again Galadriel just smiled at him like she knew something he didn’t.

“When the time comes it will be your decision alone.”

“Thranduil!”

Galadriel turned around and Thranduil could see Elrond running towards him, Celeborn right behind him. Galadriel backed away making room for the Peredhel, who stopped right in front of him, where Thranduil could clearly see the fear in his eyes. Fear for him… Elrond gaze dropped to the ground, where the hilt-shard of Narsil still lay, then the Peredhel’s eyes were on him again. Elrond stepped forward, bending down to Thranduil.

“Did you hurt yourself?”, Elrond asked while his hands were already searching his tunic for cuts.

“Elrond…”

When the Peredhel didn’t stop Thranduil put his hands atop Elrond’s hands, halting them. When their eyes met Thranduil just shook his head.

“I’m fine. It was just a hallucination.”

Upon hearing this Elrond slumped down in front of him, obviously relieved beyond words.

“Nan belain, you gave us quite a scare, Elvenking.”, Celeborn said also relieved but Thranduil had only eyes for the Peredhel in front of him.

 _Sometimes companionship of someone who went through the same traumatic events, who understands perfectly well what standing at the edge of despair and black desperation is like, is all that is needed and companionship I see between you two._ Had he been so blind? Why had he never seen that this was no one-sided arrangement? Because he had never thought that he with his dark and twisted soul could have a positive influence on someone ever again. The Peredhel had proven him wrong…again.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One chapter and maybe an epilogue left! ^^

 

I decided to mess around a little with the timeline, because I wanted Thranduil to participate in one of the White Council meetings. According to Tolkien the White Council meet and drove Sauron out of Dol Guldur right before the Battle of Five Armies. Here in story I decided go with Peter Jackson’s version of the Council meeting in Imladris during Gandalf’s stay in Imladris but they never came to a conclusion and thus met for a second time right after Smaug’s death to again discuss Dol Guldur and the events of the Battle of Five Armies. So Thranduil, being in Imladris to recover from his injuries could actually partake in the meeting. I’m kind of uncertain if Thranduil ever knew about those meetings and the White Council for he was never mentioned as taking part in them, so I decided that he never heard of it but could have imagined it and thus wasn’t too surprised to see that there actually was something like a Council of the mightiest in Middle-earth.

Also I’m wondering why Galadriel never addressed the matter Saruman openly, when she already distrusted him. I mean, well he was the head of the Council but that doesn’t mean that you cannot speak against him, especially since she is not some unknown elven girl passing by. I really liked her portrayal in the first Hobbit movie, for you could clearly see that she was already beginning to question Saruman ‘ s motives by the looks she was giving him but I was kind of freaking out how she never said anything in the movie. So I decided to bring in Thranduil. After seeing Lee Pace’s portrayal of Thranduil, I was certain that Thranduil wouldn’t have her composure if he had the feeling that Saruman had other plans. Basically I think Thanduil can be quite an asshole and a pain in the ass (which is why I like him so much because it makes him so different from the other elves) because of his arrogant attitude and his indifference for what others might think of him. He is proud and not accountable to anyone for he managed to reign for quite a long time without the help of others, and especially without meddling in the affairs of others, thus he is not part of the “network”. This makes him kind of ideal to question the intentions of someone like Saruman without thinking about any consequences because he simply has to fear none. He can just go back to Mirkwood and go on with his isolated life like he did before (in theory^^). I also think, that he wouldn’t participate in another meeting after seeing how ineffective the Council is (due to Saruman), more likely he would consider it a waste of his time.

But since it has been years since I read all the Tolkien books and delved deeper into the material, I’m not that familiar with the matter anymore, so I’m sorry, if I overlooked basic explanations of why Galadriel acted like she acted. Basically I dropped back to a level, where it is common knowledge that the Lord of the Rings is about a ring…^^ So please excuse me if I am talking total nonsense.

Aaaand I decided to include Celeborn, simply because I like him… I mean, come on, everyone who can face the powerful Galadriel on a daily base for millennia without feeling utterly useless deserves a medal. Just joking. I like the idea that he has a calming influence on her and keeps her solidly grounded.

I imagined Thranduil mixing up real experiences at Dagorlad (e.g. all the deaths he witnessed) with other memories (e.g. the dragon, which actually was no dragon here but one of the fellbeasts of the Nazgul, since I didn’t found any information on dragons actually fighting in the Battle of the Last Alliance) and stuff his mind just invented (e.g. the scene with the fellbeast and the hilt-shard). Basically what I want to say is that in this story Thranduil never faced one of the fellbeasts personally at Dagorlad but might have seen them but in this flashback his mind mixed together his actual experiences at Dagorlad with traumatic experiences prior to the Last Alliance (I decided that he obtained the injury in his face before the Last Alliance when Oropher was still around, since I didn’t found any information about the serpent wars Lee Pace was talking about; did they just make them up for the movies?), but since his mind remembered that there were no dragons at Dagorlad it replaced the dragon (one of Thranduil’s greatest fears) with a fellbeast and then integrated the shards of Narsil, which were lying nearby just before his hallucination started. Makes sense? Ah, it is difficult to explain… ^^

Basically his mind is playing nasty tricks with him and Thranduil is having difficulties to distinguish between past and present, reality and fantasy if a trigger is present.

So I wouldn’t say, that Thranduil’s condition worsened, I just wanted to show that depending on how strong the trigger is, his strength of his hallucinations vary. With weak triggers (e.g. the orc talking about the One) his flashbacks are not that strong, but when there are stronger triggers (e.g. seeing the painting of Sauron and Isildur at Dagorlad, since he might have seen Sauron at Dagorlad in person or since the painting painfully reminded him of the unnecessary deaths of his people since Isildur never destroyed the One Ring, when he could have done so and thus ending Sauron’s reign forever) his flashbacks are so strong that his mind even mixes reality (the shards of Narsil) with his memories.

Since Nenya’s powers are presumably preservation, protection and concealment from evil, I thought that Galadriel touching Thranduil with Nenya would result in him being protected from his bad memories at least temporally. But in contrast to coming to Elrond frequently he wouldn’t go to her for further help since it already took all his courage to go to Elrond. He wouldn’t seek out and confide in a second person. Also seeking the help of Nenya would be the easy way out since the roots of his traumata aren’t really tackled in that way, since it only protects from evil and thus bringing only temporal relief. While Vilya on the contrary is said to have the power to heal and thus might help him to really recover from his traumata, healing the psychic and physical wounds he has.

 

And last but not least I wish you all a happy new year! Have fun and don’t do anything stupid! ^^


	5. Mellon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me a little while to upload but there are two reasons for delay (and why I think this is a weak chapter). I will explain them at the end of the chapter.
> 
> For now just enjoy the chapter.
> 
> Again I borrowed some lines from the movie (Thranduil talking about the nature of evil).

While the sun just rose over the mountain tops, shining into the valley, bathing the Last Homely House in a bright and warm light, Thranduil was sitting with crossed legs on one of the benches in the library from which he could look out into the gardens of Imladris. The library was still empty for it was still early and breakfast was yet to come. He preferred the loneliness and thus had intentionally gone to the library in the early hours of the day. During the day the library was far too crowded by avid Noldorin elves for his taste. He had been alone for too long a time and thus couldn’t bear many people at once. It was just too tedious. Instead he enjoyed the time when he had the library to himself.

He just turned another page, when he heard the door to the library being opened and closed again. He sighed and just hoped that the other person would leave him alone. Just as he wanted to continue reading he recognized Elrond out of the corner of his eyes. Relief washed over him, for as much as he despised the presence of other elves while reading, he rather enjoyed the company of the Peredhel. The Peredhel was carrying a pile of books and didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings, instead he was walking past the shelves looking for the empty places where the books he had taken belonged. Thranduil watched him for a few moments without making his presence known, but when the Peredhel turned his back on him, Thranduil closed his book forcefully. He saw the Peredhel flinch slightly.

“Garo aur vaer, Peredhel.“, he said, amusement evident in his voice.

Only then did Elrond slowly turn to face him. Elrond smirked.

“Garo aur vaer, Elvenking. I see you are up early.”

“You know I prefer the loneliness. And the library tends to be terribly full between breakfast and dinner.”

Elrond laughed.

“Three people can hardly be called a terribly full library. But I understand what you mean. I too prefer an empty library.”

He turned back to the shelf and put back another book.

“You never told me to what conclusion the Council finally came, regarding Dol Guldur.”

Elrond stopped and put the pile of books on a table, giving Thranduil his undivided attention.

“Thanks to your performance Saruman relented. We are going to attack Dol Guldur in a few days time.”

Thranduil was relieved. At least losing his temper hadn’t been pointless and he hadn’t put Elrond to shame.

“Thank you, mellon nin.”

Thranduil looked away and tried to ignore the mellon nin. What did the Peredhel see in him, that it was worth calling him a friend? He hadn’t done anything to deserve it, even though Galadriel obviously thought different about this matter. But she didn’t know him. She didn’t know what really dwelled in the dark corners of his being. If anything the Peredhel deserved to be called ‘friend’. Elrond had helped him even though their relationship had been more than strained after the Last Alliance. Elrond was checking on him every time he felt his despair growing. Elrond was the one watching over him.

“Who is ‘we’?”, he asked while examining the texture of the cover of the book, he was still holding.

“Mithrandir, Curunir, Galadriel and I.”

So the ringbearers and the Istari… Thranduil returned his gaze to Elrond.

“Do the combined forces of Imladris and Lothlorien have enough combat strength to face what resides in Dol Guldur. I don’t think that Saruman the White has an army to command or an army he would willingly risk to lose for this... I am certain he would call it… unnecessary adventure.”

“There won’t be any armies.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes to slits, contemplating what he had just heard.

“No armies… So Celeborn is no ringbearer.”, Thranduil mused.

“What makes you think that?”, the Peredhel asked and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Obviously he wasn’t keen on talking about any of the ringbearers of the three elven rings of power, which didn’t stop Thranduil to go on.

“You didn’t name him as being part of the attack on Dol Guldur, while Galadriel and you are part of it. I assume that’s because she is the bearer of Nenya and you are the bearer of Vilya. Also he is not able to use any magic like the Istari, which is the reason why they are part of the attack. So he being not included means he is not the bearer of Narya. And since there aren’t going to be any armies, he, even though being an experienced warrior, would be useless during the attack. This is also why you didn’t ask me to join. I have no ring of power and what little magic I can use…”

He pointed to his left cheek.

“… is of no help to you.”

Elrond frowned.

“If you are implying that I must think you a weak person, than you are wrong, Elvenking.”

”I might not be a weak person but I surely am a weak king, who didn’t have the strength to overcome the traumatic events of his past, who rather isolated his realm, because of what had been, than forging an alliance with Imladris and Lothlorien, which might have saved it from destruction by what is to come.”

Elrond shook his head.

“Just because you are king doesn’t mean you have to be stronger than everybody who ranks below you. That’s not what makes a king a good king. You did what you thought was best for your people and what was within your power. We chose different ways to preserve our realms but the results are the same. But now we have to stand together in order to successfully fight the growing shadow.”

Thranduil looked out into the gardens, his gaze unfocused.

“Such is the nature of evil. Out there in the vast ignorance of the world it festers and spreads. A shadow that grows in the dark, a sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night. So it ever was, so will it always be. In time all foul things come forth.”

Elrond peered at him.

“Say, what are you reading again?”

Thranduil raised the hand, in which he held the book.

“Tales of Doriath. Even I get melancholic from time to time.”

“I’m quite sure there never was something like this written in there.”

Thranduil smiled at the Peredhel. Elrond knew his library well, so it seemed.

“Your memory serves you well, Peredhel. There was nothing like that written in this book. That is what the past has written on my body with every further wound I obtained by arrows, maces, knives, swords and dragon fire fighting for the shadow.”

He sighed.

“But we are wandering from the subject.”

He put the book on a table standing next to the bench.

“Since two of the three ringbearers of the elven rings were present at the meeting, it might be that either the third one couldn’t participate for whatever reasons or was indeed present or Narya is already lost. If the first reason was true I am sure the bearer would participate in the attack on Dol Guldur, but you only mentioned those who were also present at the meeting. So I’m ruling this possibility out. I also don’t think that Narya has been lost, which leaves us with the last possibility, that the bearer of Narya was indeed present during the meeting. Now there are two options. Either Galadriel is the bearer of two rings or you are. Or one of the Istari is the bearer of Narya.”

Elrond had listened carefully and simultaneously tried not to show any emotion in order to not give away the whereabouts of Narya.

“You know I can’t tell you. You already know too much. To keep the whereabouts of the three elven rings a secret is of utmost importance.”

If Sauron or his henchmen would ever catch you, torture you… he didn’t dare to go on thinking about this. Not only because the outcome of this scenario would be catastrophic but also because just thinking of another person he held dear to his heart experiencing the same as Celebrian nauseated him. He never wanted to see light hair, be it silver or golden, stained with red blood ever again. Just then did it occur to him, what he had just thought. Another person dear to his heart… Thranduil had become his friend, his confidant and yet… he felt there was something more, lurking in his heart, where he couldn’t quite grasp it. He looked at the Elvenking, a ray of light playing on his golden hair. He was sitting on the bench, relaxed but even in this relaxed state he gave off the pride of a king mixed with a notch of arrogance that came along with being the last Elvenking in Middle-earth and the knowledge of your own radiant beauty. And a beauty he was… Elrond realized where his thoughts were heading and his heart sank. When… when had his feelings taken this turn?

“Peredhel?”

Elrond found his way back to reality upon hearing the Elvenking’s demanding voice. Thranduil was watching him closely and Elrond understood that he must have missed something.

“What were you saying?”

“You looked quite shocked. Are you feeling well?”

“I just realized something.”, Elrond said with a wave of his hand. Something he had to analyze later, when Thranduil wasn’t anywhere near.

“What was it you were saying?”

“I know that it the whereabouts of the elven rings must be kept a secret, but you do realize that building flourishing elven realms isn’t very subtle? If Sauron indeed rises again I am sure he already knows where to look for at least two of them. The only well hidden ring is Narya.”

“I know. But subtlety has never been one of my qualities.”, Elrond joked, trying to lighten the mood and to distract his own mind, but Thranduil didn’t take the bait and neither did his own mind.

“Say, Peredhel, what would happen to you if Sauron would successfully regain the One Ring?”

Elrond’s gaze dropped to the floor.

“I don’t know.”, he said quietly.

Then he looked up again and directly into Thranduils eyes.

“Maybe I will fall into darkness, like the Nine.”

Thranduil couldn’t see any fear in the Peredhel’s eyes while talking about falling into the darkness, something Thranduil himself feared the most.

“You aren’t afraid of falling into the darkness.”, Thranduil stated.

“No I’m not. It is the price I have to pay for wielding Vilya. And I knew it all along.”

“Then why did you wield it, to begin with. Couldn’t you have kept Imladris without it?”

Elrond shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe… I don’t know. But keeping Imladris wasn’t the only thing I wanted and did use Vilya for. With Vilya I was able to help so many people, people I couldn’t have saved without it, people like you, who were closer to darkness than to light. And for this I’m willing to pay the price. There is only one thing that bothers me. I don’t have a fallback strategy if I should indeed fall into darkness.”

“What kind of fallback strategy?”

“Celeborn once confided in me that he and Galadriel have an agreement. Should she ever succumb to darkness, either by Sauron regaining the One Ring or by her getting her hands on the One Ring first, Celeborn is going to kill her.”

Ah, love that ran so deep you would even kill the one you love in order to avoid that your beloved had to face a fate much worse than death. He knew it from hearsay for he himself had never had such a relationship with his wife. After showing her his face and after her display of utter disgust he never talked to her about his fear of losing himself to the darkness within him and his fear of losing control. He would have never asked her to kill him if that happened, because he had then known her limited loyalty towards him. She would have run as soon as she had had the possibility, too afraid of facing his dark side, too afraid to even look at him at all. And Legolas? He could have never asked Legolas to kill him. He had hoped, Legolas would be able to do so on his own account, if he himself had succumbed to the darkness within him. That had been the reason why he had driven Legolas away. His fallback strategy had failed. But he perfectly understood Elrond’s line of thought. Like him, he was sure that Elrond would never ask such a favor from any of his children, but neither from friends or anyone at all. Elrond was too concerned for the wellbeing of others. He would never ask anyone to bear the blame of killing. And yet he also knew how scaring it could be when you knew there would be no one who would stop you if one day the dark side of you took over. He had been there and he still was.

“I will kill you.”

There he had said it, without giving it another thought for there was no need to do so. Elrond looked at him angrily.

“Stop talking such nonsense, Thranduil. I don’t want you to kill me.”

Even though it sounded alluring, Elu knew the Elvenking had already a big load to carry on his shoulders.

“You don’t have to think you owe me, because you don’t.”

“I might owe you but that is not why I offer you my help. I know the feeling of hurting the ones I care for. I fought against it and I won. And I know how to kill. Let me put this knowledge to good use, at least for once in my life.”

Thranduil looked him dead in the eyes and Elrond realized something else… He saw something in the eyes of the Elvenking… something he was sure not many had ever witnessed when faced by the King of the Woodland Realm… sympathy and understanding. 

“You care that much about me?”

“I care that much about you, mellon nin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garo aur vaer – Good morning/day
> 
> The idea of Celeborn killing Galadriel if she succumbs to the darkness is not mine. A few years ago I read a fanfiction where Celeborn was hiding in a tree or bush while Galadriel showed Frodo her mirror. Celeborn is ready to kill her if she would take the One Ring. The short story is "He'd rather die" by Larian Elensar on fanfiction.net. I liked the idea very much, so I decided to include it here.
> 
> As for the two reasons for the delay:  
> So first university started again last week (christmas holiday is over T.T) and the courses don't leave any time for fanfiction writing. I have to do it in my breaks.^^
> 
> Second I found out that someone, who read my story here wrote his/her own story taking the basic ideas of my first chapter. Actually that itself is not the problem but this person didn't give any credit, which really made me angry and sad. Perhaps, I'm being oversensitive... But just saying: "well, I read this story xyz and it was so crappy that I had to write my own version" or "I liked that story xzy but I had another idea" would have been fine. Anyway it kind of ruined my week and I stopped writing for a few days. Thus I lost track of what Iactually wanted to write. But I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer so I decided to upload it today.
> 
> So basically the story is finished for all the non-shippers here. In this last chapter I just wanted to show that Thranduil opens up to Elrond.
> 
> For the shippers there is going to be an epilogue (might be two parts), althought I already know there will be no intercourse or something like that. If you are looking for that you might go to another section of this web page *cough*. This is not because I don't like such stories but just because I think they both need more time to get there. It might happen soooooooooooomewhere in the future but that is just soooooooo much ahead, because I generally think elves are more looking for intellectual relationships. So the physical part is not the dominant part in their relationships.
> 
> Just my opinion.^^
> 
> And please give me some time... university and stuff... you know...^^


	6. Epilogue part I

“If you would excuse me.”

Elrond got to his feet and turned away from the campfire he had shared with Celeborn, Galadriel and his twins. He didn’t wait for their response but walked away to an area that lay in the darkness of the night. He felt their gazes on his back, but he didn’t care. He had a far more pressing matter on his mind. He reached the area and knew that here he would be undisturbed. He found a nice patch of grass and sat down, before opening his tired fea and reaching out for Mirkwood, quietly calling for its king. It took a while until he felt the fea of Thranduil. A shiver ran down his spine like it always did, when his fea connected with the fea of the King of the Woodland Realm, because the Elvenking was one of the few elves who possessed a fea that felt cold to the touch. In contrast most other fear gave away a feeling of warmth, like Celeborn’s or the fear of his children. Connecting with them always felt like entering a room with a burning open fire in the fire place. And connecting with Galadriel felt like standing in the bright sun of an early morning. With Thranduil it felt like diving into a clear mountain stream.

But even though their fear were connected Thranduil kept silent, and Elrond feared his powers were too weak to properly reach the Mirkwood from where he was now.

“Thranduil?”, he asked tentatively.

“I’m here, mellon nin.”

But when he didn’t say anything further, Elrond knew that Thranduil was giving him the time and space he needed to start talking about what was on his mind for Thranduil knew where he had been.

“We left Minas Tirith this afternoon.” Elrond swallowed. “I left her behind.”

“No, you didn’t!”, Thranduil objected vehemently.

“It has been her decision to make, like it had been yours! She is living her own life, like she wanted to, like you wanted to.”

“Then why does it feel so wrong? Why do I feel like riding back and forcing her to come back with me?”

“Because she is your beloved daughter and you are a caring father.”

Tears appeared in Elrond’s eyes as he thought about what lay in his daughter’s future.

“Thranduil, I can’t go through that again. I have seen my brother die… I can’t watch my own daughter’s demise. I have brought her to this world with my own hands… I can’t watch her leaving it.”

The Elvenking said nothing and Elrond fathomed that he knew what he was going to say.

“I’m sailing.”

Thranduil closed his eyes. He had feared this moment all along. His mind had been telling him for quite a while now that the Peredhel would want to sail sooner or later, now that the shadow had been defeated and Vilya’s power had vanished. Thranduil had banned these thoughts to the back of his mind, hadn’t wanted to think about the day the Peredhel would leave Middle-earth, hadn’t wanted to think about the day he would lose his only friend to the Valar, the day he would be alone again. He just wanted to tell Elrond that the High King of the Reunited Kingdom would most likely reign for one hundred years, not longer, and would then decide to leave this world. And then Arwen would most likely decide to join him in death. Just one hundred years, a mere blink in the life of an elf, then everything would be over and Elrond could start to heal in Middle-earth, could see his grandchildren grow up. But he would never say it out loud, not to Elrond, his friend, for he knew it was heartless and egoistic. And he knew, while for him the defeat of Sauron marked a new beginning, a chance to rebuild flourishing elven realms and enjoy Middle-earth without being afraid of a shadow lurking in the dark, for Elrond as well as Galadriel, who had always focused their efforts on fighting evil, their mission to protect the free people of Middle-earth had ended with the victory over Sauron. He swallowed hard.

“When?”

“I don’t know. But Galadriel and I, we both want to leave soon. There are still some arrangements that need to be made. A few months maybe.”

So soon?!

“So we will not meet again?” 

Thranduil felt a cold hand grabbing his heart. Elrond didn’t answer immediately and thus Thranduil already knew the answer. He would never see the Peredhel again, never again. His heart sank. Their ways would part… forever.

“I don’t think, there is any time left.”

There was a short pause.

“You could always accompany us.”

Thranduil laughed a bitter laugh.

“I would never set one foot on the shores of Valinor. Like you would never stay in Middle-earth.”, he snapped.

He couldn’t stop himself, for his heart hurt too much. But that Elrond would never know. No one would ever know.

“Thranduil.”, Elrond said softly but Thranduil wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let the Peredhel soothe him.

“Do as you wish, Peredhel. It is your decision. Now, if you would excuse me.”

Before Elrond could say anything, Thranduil was already gone and Elrond again alone in the dark. He slumped down, exhausted, physically and mentally.

Thranduil slammed his fist on a wooden pillar. What was wrong with him? Why was he feeling such despair, despair that ran far too deep than the despair of just losing a friend… a very dear friend? He leaned against the pillar, resting his forehead on the cool wood.

But he had felt he couldn’t deny that the Peredhel had weakened considerably. He had seen it during each visit and he felt it during every conversation they had had after Sauron’s defeat. First he had tried to ignore it, and then when it hadn’t been possible to ignore it anymore, he had told himself that Elrond would recover sooner or later. And he waited, but all waiting had been in vain. Elrond never recovered. And Thranduil’s concern for the Peredhel grew with every day the Peredhel’s condition worsened. And he also knew that there might not be any hope of recovery for the Peredhel if he stayed in Middle-earth, even though his heart didn’t want to believe in this. But his mind knew better. And as a friend he should listen to what his mind said, not what his heart wanted. He wanted the Peredhel to live a life without pain and sorrow, something he would never have. Something he would never wish upon his friend. He knew the right thing to do was to let the Peredhel go. And yet it was such a hard thing to do.

Elrond went back to the campfire, which was already dying out. Most of the others were already asleep, only single silhouettes could still be seen in front of some of the campfires. So he went to his own sleeping bag and lay down. He had known that it wouldn’t be easy to tell the Elvenking, that he was going to leave Middle-earth. They had become close friends, maybe too close at least when it came to himself.

Elrond sighed. His head hurt and he was not happy with how his talk with Thranduil had ended. He had known that his decision would negatively affect the Elvenking and he had foreseen the end of the conversation. Nonetheless he always hated it when a conversation between them ended on bad terms, for he was worried about Thranduil, worried that in his anger the Elvenking would do something inconsiderate. Damn his short-tempered character!

Just when he had decided to give sleep a chance he felt a familiar presence calling out to him. Relieved he opened his fea to the presence. “I’m sorry. My temper got the better of me.”, Thranduil stated without preamble. Elrond couldn’t hold back a smile. “That is nothing new to me. I know your character quite well, Elvenking.”

I know, Peredhel. You know me too well. You alone know of the madness that dwells within me.

“After reigning in my temper I came to the conclusion that indeed you are right. You should leave this land for I can easily feel your exhaustion. Wielding Vilya has taking its toll on your body. The time and environment you need to recover, you probably won’t find anywhere in Middle-earth, and even less so as the lord of an Elven Realm.”

Elrond felt a sting in his heart. He knew of the weakened state of his body and even of his mind. And he knew the only place where he could recover was Valinor. But being told to his face, that Thranduil really wanted him to leave for whatever reasons, somehow hurt deep inside.

“Peredhel?”

“Yes?”

“You let your mind wander again.”

Elrond sighed, for it had happened quite often during the last few conversations with Thranduil that he had missed parts of what Thranduil had been saying. Sometimes it really was because his mind was too tired to focus but sometimes it was just because he was trying to analyze the state of the relationship between him and the Elvenking.

“I guess I’m tired.”

At least it was only a partial lie, since he was also tired beyond words.

“Then you should rest. We can still talk tomorrow.”

“You might be right.”

Elrond knew that Thranduil would most likely be smiling right now.

“Losto vae, mellon nin.”

“Losto, vae, mellon nin.”, Elrond replied and closed his eyes.

 

After that day they talked frequently, conversing about everything and nothing. But they avoided the topic of Elrond sailing soon as much as they could. And while he felt his body and mind getting weaker with every passing day, felt centuries of wielding a ring of power finally catching up with him, he occasionally let something slip that he hoped might encourage Thranduil to reconsider coming with him to the Undying Lands. And while his heart always hoped that Thranduil would finally relent, his mind was telling him to stop that nonsense and to respect the Elvenking’s decision. And before long the last day of his stay in Middle-earth had arrived.

It was early afternoon, when he felt the presence of the Elvenking and when he opened his fea to his, he felt that familiar wave of cold, washing over his own fea. It would be the last time he would feel it here in Middle-earth. And maybe he would never again feel it in his whole life, so he savored this moment, tried to remember every second on his mind, so that he could recall it later at any moment. Like the many days before they talked about everything and nothing, but when the sun began to set he knew it was time to say goodbye… for good. He swallowed for he didn’t know how to begin telling Thranduil, that this was the end. 

“Thranduil…”, he simply began. “I think it is time. Boe i ‘waen.”

Thranduil didn’t respond. And when the silence lasted too long for his own liking, he tried again.

“Thranduil?”

“I heard you, Peredhel.”, Thranduil snapped, but Elrond knew that he didn’t mean it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to press you.”

Again silence ensued but then finally Thranduil spoke.

“Thank you for saving me, guren glassui.

“You know, you don’t have to thank me. I’m a healer. Healing is what I do. And you were no exception.”

“But our relationship was strained.”

“That is your opinion. I think we had merely lost sight of each other.”, Elrond replied, smiling.

Thranduil knew that the Peredhel was smiling, while saying this but he also knew that for him this didn’t apply. For him it had been far more than merely losing sight of each other. He had loathed the High King and his herald from deep within for what had happened to his father and kin on the battle field of Dagorlad. But now in retrospect it seemed to him like this had been ages ago. And when he now did some soul-searching there was no hate left at least for the herald. So much had changed… and now all of it would end.

“Guren niniatha n’i lû n’i a-govenitham.”

Thranduil sighed and closed his eyes.

“You know, we won’t... Goheno nin.”

They would never see each other again. This parting was forever.

“I still have hope…”

“Don’t… for it’s in vain.” 

“Thranduil…”

 _Don’t… Don’t to this, Elrond. It’s hard enough as it is. But I won’t change my mind!_ He had to end this conversation… now!

“Novaer, mellon nin.”, he simply said.

 Elrond swallowed hard. So this was it, the last time he had heard the Elvenking’s voice.

 “Novaer, mellon nin.”

As soon as their fear had parted, Thranduil felt the emptiness creep into his heart, taking residence there for a long time.

He sighed, allowed himself one short moment of weakness before he pulled himself back together again, becoming the cold and distant king he used to be. He wouldn't despair just because he would never see the Peredhel again, because he would be alone again. He had been alone without any friends or confidants so many years, he could barely count them. But he had endured and he still would. Even though now with Vilya's power gone, his past might catch up with him again, again causing nightmares and hallucinations. The shadows might have left Middle-earth, but they hadn’t left his heart. But he had also survived them before he had sought out the Peredhel's help, barely so, but nonetheless he had. And even if now he wouldn't be able to cope, if he would indeed succumbed to darkness and madness. Now it wasn't important anymore to survive because Legolas would then be king in a stable and peaceful time. He wouldn't have to face the evil he himself had had to face as the King of an Elven Realm.

Except for that, his situation was basically the same as it had been before he had gone to the Peredhel to seek help. But deep inside he didn't feel like before. He had changed during the few years during which his path and the Peredhel's had crossed. The Peredhel had changed him. In the past this would have made him angry. He hated being influenced by others especially if he didn't notice it until it was too late. But he couldn't be angry at the Peredhel. His heart forbade it.

And his heart also forbade him to let the Peredhel sail still believing he would follow him someday. He knew that the Peredhel would continue to do so. He knew him to well, the trustful Peredhel. He would waste his energy waiting for him. Energy he needed to recover his body and soul. His gaze dropped on a pile of parchments, that lay on a nearby table and he suddenly knew what he had to do. A last act of friendship… He would crush the Peredhel’s hopes forever.

 

Elrond watched as Galadriel took the hands of her husband into her own, looking down at their joined hands. Celeborn pulled her towards him, pressing her against himself. He knew how Celeborn must be feeling for years ago he had found himself in the very same position. He had been standing here on this very shore and had watched his heart disappear beyond the horizon. And he now could imagine how his wife must have felt then and how Galadriel must feel right now, for he too left someone in Middle-earth, someone who was very dear to him. Since the day he had told Thranduil that he would sail, he had known deep in his heart that Thranduil wouldn’t follow him. And why should he? He didn't even know if Thranduil had felt what was between them, that there was something more than just plain friendship between them. The hate and distrust Thranduil felt towards Valinor and some of its inhabitants obviously were stronger than the yearning for his dead wife and definitely stronger than whatever it was, that was between them. And as he thought about all this, for the first time it really dawned on him, that the odds of seeing Thranduil ever again were against him. It tore his heart apart. In the short time he had come to know Thranduil, he had grown to care for the arrogant King of the Woodland Realm.

Elrond turned to his sons on last time. He had to take his leave now. He couldn’t bear to see them any longer, when he knew he was leaving any moment now, for it increased the pain in his heart. It was now or never. He hugged them both for one last time, pulling them close like he had so many times before. Then abruptly he let go.

"Watch over your sister for me."

They nodded dutifully. He took one last deep breath.

"We will follow you. We promise."

He nodded in understanding.

"I'm waiting."

And with that he turned and walked towards the ship that was softly rolling on the waves. When he stopped right before the plank he slowly put one foot on it. Half of him had already left Middle-earth. But just as his second foot wanted to follow the first one, he heard Elladan call for him.

"Ada, wait! Look!"

Elladan was pointing towards the gate leading to the Grey Havens. There was a horseman galloping through it at high speed. Elrond's heart stopped when he beheld the colors of the elves of the Woodland Realm. Maybe Thranduil had changed his mind, maybe... The horseman pulled his horse to a halt in front of Elladan and Elrohir. It wasn't Thranduil. This elf had the brown hair of a Silvan elf not the golden hair of the King of the Woodland Realm and he definitely hadn't his pale blue eyes.

"I have a message for Elrond, Lord of Imladris from my king Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm."

It was obvious that he was quite out of breath as was his horse. He must have ridden as fast as possible for a long time in order to make it to the Grey Havens in time. He had been successful but barely so. Elrohir took the reins, while the messenger dismounted and came over to Elrond. He handed him a parchment, sealed with Thranduil's insignia. With trembling hands Elrond opened the parchment and began to read.

_I hope it didn't raise any hope in your heart only to be crushed again when you beheld that the horseman wasn't me. My decision remains the same. I haven't changed my mind. It is for the best that our ways part now and forever, the best for you… That is why I will never follow you, because I want to shelter you from me._

_You shouldn't get to close to me, not when my inside is such a dark and cold place. Although you always thought that there is hope for me and my lost soul, you don't know all the demons I hide in the shadows of my soul and there is no place for you to hide from the darkness that dwells within me, if you stay close to me, if you stay in this forsaken land, now that Vilya’s power has vanished. Sail and you will be sheltered and protected from the pain of your past and from me. There are beloved people waiting for you on the shores beyond the sea. Go to them! There is no one waiting for me, so I stay here, where I can't destroy the small light of hope I could see shining bright in your eyes, despite the horrors and losses you have had to experience. For I am sure I would destroy it. I would take you down with me into the darkness that is my fate. I know you don't believe in fate. But I know my future and I can’t escape it. It is woven in my soul. I don't carry this light of hope you carry. Nobody is waiting for me._

_So farewell, mellon nin._

When he had finished the letter Elrond closed his eyes and sighed, his heart heavy in his chest. Thranduil was wrong. He didn’t need protection, least of all protection against the Elvenking. There might be darkness within Thranduil’s soul but it was the same darkness he harboured within himself. He didn’t need any protection, he needed someone who understood him, who understood what he went through, as soon as the lights went out and the night and with it darkness reigned. Someone who understood what horrors befell him as soon as he closed his eyes in order to sleep. Someone who accepted the shadows that now resided in his soul, accepted him for what he was, scarred and lost. Thranduil understood what it meant to lose oneself on the battle field that was one’s own soul. And they had both found comfort in each other’ presence, had forged a bond of friendship out of pain and misery. Together they had managed to transform something bad into something good, into something strong and this something Elrond didn’t want to… no… mustn’t lose. But they would be worlds apart forever, if he didn't try everything possible to change Thranduil's mind. He had only today, only these last minutes before he left Middle-earth for good. And he would use them. He looked around, searching for a certain person. There he was, standing with his nephew, looking a little lost.

"Bilbo, would you be so kind and lend me one of your parchments and some ink. I'm quite sure you brought some with you to write about your next adventure."

Bilbo smiled at him.

"You know me far too well, Lord Elrond."

And with trembling hands and with the help of Frodo he pulled a parchment and some writing supply out of his sack.

"I'm deeply indebted to you, Bilbo Baggins."

"Pah..."

Bilbo just waved him off and Elrond took the offered things and found a balustrade where he could write on.

Two words… that was all he needed.

He gave the parchment to the messenger.

"Give this to your king."

The messenger bowed to him and took the parchment Elrond held out to him. When the messenger turned around hastily nearly running to his horse, Elrond called after him.

"It's not urgent. Let your horse and yourself rest for awhile."

The messenger slowed down immediately and uttered an exhausted thank you, before he took the reins of his horse from Elrohir and left the Grey Havens on foot. Elrond looked at his sons for the last time in Middle-earth and then embarked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boe i ‘waen = I must go  
> guren glassui = Thank you from my heart  
> Guren niniatha n’i lû n’i a-govenitham = My heart shall weep until I see you again  
> Goheno nin = Forgive me  
> Novaer = farewell
> 
> At least I hope that's what the elvish sentences and words I used mean. The problem with foreign languages you don't speak is that you have to trust the people on the internet, that the phrases indeed mean, what they say it means. So either these phrases are correct or Elrond and Thranduil are talking about that red carpet they always wanted to buy...^^
> 
> Thranduil's letter was inspired by the song "Demons" by Imagine Dragons. I really like that song and it kind of matched their situation quite well. So I used some lines directly, others I changed slightly.


	7. Epilogue part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay... But after this week I have more time left for writing!^^

“My Lord!”

Thranduil turned to see Siriann rushing towards him. His heart sank, when he saw Siriann holding a parchment in his hand. He had waited too long. His letter hadn’t reached the Peredhel anymore. He had been too late. When Siriann had reached him, he bowed and held out the parchment to him.

“I reached Lord Elrond just in time. He gave me this for you, my Lord.”

Thranduil’s gaze dropped to the parchment that was offered to him. With a quick movement he snatched the parchment from Siriann and waved him off without saying a word. With trembling hands he gazed at the small parchment he was now holding. There was no seal and suddenly Thranduil feared that the Peredhel might have written something compromising and that Siriann might have read it. He quickly unfolded the parchment, hoping that the Peredhel had been discreet. And then he saw Elrond’s neat handwriting. Two words… Disbelievingly Thranduil turned the parchment around. But the rest of the parchment was empty. He turned the parchment again and faced the two words, reading them for the first time.

_I am…_

Elrond was standing at the railing watching the crowd that stood on the pier, waiting for them to finally dock the boat. He searched the crowd for the familiar silver hair, anxious to see her and the condition she was in. First he couldn’t find her in the crowd but then his gaze was caught by two radiant golden haired elves standing in the first row, The resemblance was unmistakable and thus he knew he was looking at King Finarfin, father of Galadriel and his son Finrod Felagund. And next to them stood Eärwen, mother of Galadriel, her hand holding the hand of Celebrian, his wife. Their eyes locked and she smiled at him that smile he knew so well, but hadn’t seen in centuries. And he knew that this was a good sign for she had never smiled after the assault. And when they finally docked and left the boat he saw Galadriel falling into the arms of her father. And he saw Celebrian running towards him, laughing, and he awaited her, his beloved, with his arms wide open.

“Elrond!”

She threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly, pressing herself against him, clinging to him like a castaway to a piece of driftwood. Slowly he put his own arms around her small body and buried his face in the curve of her neck, taking in her smell… He noticed that she had gained weight and relief washed over his heart, for when she had sailed she had been frail. The way she had jumped into his arms had showed him, that she had regained her strength and her love of life. And his heart leaped for joy. But as much as he was glad that she had recovered from the ordeal, he also realized that being in her arms felt just utterly wrong. And it finally dawned on him what his heart had known and his mind had ignored all along. The heart that had wept, when Celebrian had left Middle-earth, the heart that had been broken the day she had sailed, the heart that had yearned for her, that had begged him then to follow her to Valinor… this very heart didn’t belong to Celebrian anymore… it was now part of the gems that belonged to the King of the Woodland Realm.

She let go of him, put him at arm’s length to look into his eyes and her smile slowly died. He knew why. He was too shocked to even try to hide it. She could see it in his eyes, could see that she had lost his heart somewhere along the way. She put her right hand on his cheek, caressing him softly. Her smile returned but it was a sad one.

“Nana, warned me, when I told her that I intended to sail. She told me that I might lose you, that I might lose your heart. But I didn’t listen to her. I just wanted this misery I was in to end. I thought she just wanted me to stay. Now I know she had been right. Your heart is not with me anymore… I’m sorry, my love.”

“I –” “Don’t. I’m so sorry I wasn’t by your side, when the darkness had grown again and when you had to let Arwen go.”

Elrond looked at her in disbelief. How could she know? He had long thought about how to tell her that she would never see her daughter again. He had feared that moment. And now she already knew.

“How…?”

“Lord Manwe summoned me to tell me about her decision in order to prepare me for your arrival without any of our children. Elladan and Elrohir promised they would follow you, didn’t they?”

She looked at him anxiously, waiting for an affirmative answer.

“Yes, they did.”

She introduced her grandfather and his son to him and then he found himself in the arms of his king. Ereinion hugged him and Elrond automatically returned the embrace but his mind was elsewhere. It was far away, beyond the Sea where a certain king dwelled, where his heart was. And when later asked what happened after his arrival in Valinor he could only tell that he didn’t remember a single thing after being reunited with his wife. He couldn’t remember how their company had parted at the piers. He and Celebrian riding to their new home and Galadriel following King Finarfin to his house. He couldn’t remember the worried looks Celebrian had thrown at him on their ride to their new home and he couldn’t remember his reaction to seeing his future home, a smaller replica of Imladris, for the first time. He couldn’t recall how he had ended up in the rooms that had been prepared for him and how he had finally fallen asleep on the comfortable bed. He could only remember that he had constantly asked himself, how he could have been so blind all this time.

 

Thranduil entered the library. It was empty for it was in the middle of the night and nobody was still awake, since nobody’s mind was as troubled as his. He had tried to find sleep but the hole he had felt in his heart upon the departure of the Peredhel wouldn’t let him. He felt lost and alone but he knew he would find relief with his books, like always, even if it was just momentary. But he could always lose himself in the stories of the past and they allowed him to forget what he had lost. And as time passed he would recover as he always had. He walked past the numerous shelves of books and read all the diverse titles, many of them he had yet to read. It only took him a few minutes to find a book whose title raised his interest. He pulled it out of the shelf and sat down on a nearby bench. And as he had foreseen, it didn’t take long for him to lose himself in the story, to let his mind wander to a past time, where he hadn’t been troubled by something so trivial like losing a friend. Thus he banned the Peredhel from his mind… for the moment.

 

Elrond sat on a bench on the balcony, from which he could overlook the small valley and the forest that lay directly in front of him. It was still early morning but he hadn’t slept well on his first night in Valinor. His mind had been too restless. So he had decided to rise early and greet the day on the balcony, taking in the beauty of the nature that surrounded him. Suddenly he heard small steps in the big public room to which the balcony belonged. He turned his head and saw Celebrian coming towards him. She wore a white dress and her long silver hair flowed over her shoulders like water. He had always enjoyed watching her, because she was a fair elf, and he still did enjoy it but his heart wasn’t into it anymore. She stopped next to him and for a few moments neither of them spoke a word. Elrond didn’t know what to say except for telling her how sorry he was, that he wasn’t the husband anymore she had left in Middle-earth and expected in Valinor.

“Do you feel like talking?”, she suddenly asked and Elrond nodded.

It wouldn’t be just to postpone this conversation any longer. Celebrian had been so considerate and hadn’t insisted on talking yesterday for he had been really tired.

“Of course.”

Celebrian nodded and went over to the balustrade, leaning herself against it with her back thus facing Elrond.

“I’m sorry, Elrond.”

Elrond looked at her in surprise.

“Why? It is my fault. I –“

“No.”, she cut him off.

“As I already told you yesterday I knew of the risk of losing you when I sailed. Nana warned me, but I didn’t believe her. I was naïve, believing your heart would always belong to me even when we were apart. I thought my injuries were far worse than yours, that they would justify me leaving you. I forgot that you had your own demons to fight and that you needed me by your side to face them. I have risked your heart and I lost it.”

“Celebrian…”

She raised her hands stopping him.

“I still love you but I know that I have forfeited every claim on your heart.”

“I also still love you, but not like I should. I always considered you as one of my closest friends and confidants and you still are. But you don’t own my heart anymore.”

She nodded and Elrond was sure he could see some tears in the corner of her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I never meant it to happen. I didn’t even realize it myself until you embraced me yesterday.”

She nodded again.

“Do you want me to leave this house?”

“No! I want you to stay! As complicated as this situation might be, you are still an important part of my life and you still own a part of my heart. But if you prefer to leave then I won’t stop you but I would be glad to have you here as a friend.”

She sighed.

“I waited so long to see you again. I won’t leave now. But I can’t promise you that I will stay forever. Someday the need to move on might grow in my heart as well.”

He nodded.

“I know.”

“But this house I let it be built for you. It is my wish that you live in it. I have many places to call home here in Valinor.”

“Thank you.”

There was nothing else he could say. He only knew that he didn’t deserve this generosity and that if Celebrian ever left he had nobody to share this big house with.

“Will she follow you soon?”, she asked out of the blue and Elrond had to swallow hard.

He wished with his whole heart that he would follow him and yet most likely he never would.

“No, most likely not.”

She looked at him in surprise but he could also see compassion in her eyes. He knew full well how ridiculous his situation was. First his wife left him in Middle-earth and for centuries his heart would yearn for her. Then when he finally sailed to see her again, his heart already belonged to someone else. So that now here in Valinor his heart would yearn for the one who had stayed in Middle-earth.

“Why?”

“Several things: duty, dislike of the Valar, fear of pulling me down into the darkness.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“Who would dislike the Valar.”

“Anyone who has fought against Sauron, who saw his father and kin slaughtered, who survived the madness that was Dagorlad.”

“But you did too and you do not dislike them.”

“But some of the Sindar do, ever since the First Age. They traveled east and some of them settled down with Oropher, living an isolated life in Greenwood. And if you grow up surrounded by certain ideals it is likely that you adopt them as well.”

“So it is a male Sindar then?”

He knew she had concluded that from the fact that no female elves had fought at Dagorlad.

“Yes.”

“And he belongs to King Thranduil’s court?”

“Yes.”

“How did you meet? I thought the Thranduil’s kingdom was quite isolated and they kept to themselves.”

“He came to me for help. An old wound of his caused by dragon’s fire pained him. He was looking for relief. I couldn’t treat the wound because it was already too old, but I could at least temporarily ease his pain by touching him with Vilya.”

“So you meet frequently and you became friends.”

Elrond smiled at Celebrian, remembering the first few encounters with the Elvenking, which had been so tedious but had later turned into meetings he had enjoyed so much.

“Do I know him?”

“Yes, you even mentioned his name in this conversation.”

She looked at him quizzically and he was sure that she recapitulated their conversation in her head at that very moment. And he could exactly pinpoint the moment she realized who it was.

“King Thranduil!”

“Yes.”

And for a little she just met him with disbelief but then she smiled.

“Of all the elves in Middle-earth he would have been the last I would have considered. You never were particularly close. You told me about that grudge he held against you and Gil-Galad after the Last Alliance. But then he never was particularly close to anyone…”

“He decided to put this grudge aside, because the pain ate him up and he didn’t want to leave his son when the shadows were growing again. He didn’t want him to experience what he had, fighting twelve years on Sauron’s battlefields, making decisions that would result in the death of his kin.”

“He was stronger than me…”, she simply stated and Elrond didn’t answer.

He didn’t know what to say. So silence reigned between them for quite a while until she broke it again.

“I heard he is not an easy person to love.”

“At first sight? Yes.” Elrond had to smile, remembering what a nuisance Thranduil could be if he wanted to.

“But when you look behind this façade of his, built of pride and arrogance…”

She watched him looking into the distance, smiling. This smile had once been reserved for her. But not anymore.

“This wound you talked about, was it an ugly sight?”

He peered at her not sure where this was going.

“For those who have seen the horrors of war it is not, for you having been constantly confronted with injured people in Imladris it is not. For someone who has been sheltered and never saw what wounds the creatures of the shadows could inflict, it is. But he hides it using an illusion and I’m sure not many know of it.”

“During one of my stays in Lothlorien after I married you, I heard rumors concerning the fate of the Queen of the Woodland Realm. It was said that after she gave birth to her son, she ran into the forest, screaming that she couldn’t face his ugliness anymore. Soon after they found her body deep in the woods.”

Elrond closed his eyes while his heart went out to the Elvenking. Even though they had become friends, Thranduil had never mentioned his wife and now Elrond finally understood. It had been too painful. He was sure the Elvenking had shown his face to her, had trusted her but she had breached his trust. Maybe that was why the Elvenking had taken so long to open up to him.

“I always thought she was talking about his character, since he was known for being a harsh and distant king…"

“No, I think it wasn’t his character she was talking about…”

She came to him and took his hand into hers.

“Thank you for not abandoning me after…”

She left the sentence unfinished but Elrond knew perfectly well what she was talking about. Tears were running down her cheeks and Elrond pulled her into his arms. 

“I would have never, never abandoned you! And I still wouldn’t for you are so very dear to me.”

 

Thranduil had feared that it might be worse, missing the Peredhel, but now he was quite relieved, for he had too much to do as the King of the Woodland Realm to dwell in the past and to wonder about what might have been. His responsibilities lay with his people and he would do everything to ensure the endurance of his kingdom. Thus he and his men were combing the Greenwood Forest for the many scattered hordes of orcs that had survived the War of the Ring and the attack on Dol Guldur and entered the Greenwood. Narrow-minded as they were, they thought in doing so they could escape the joined forces of the free people of Middle-earth, for the Greenwood was still known as being a hostile environment and not many dared to enter it. What foolish creatures. Thanduil could only find amusement in their desperate attempt to save their forfeited lives. The Greenwood might be known as being hostile but not to him and his kin, to whom it was home. And he knew that the Greenwood would never hide those foul things from him and his kin but would lead him and his men directly to them. So they spent their days in the forest hunting down the spawn of Sauron and Thranduil almost forgot about the emptiness that lingered in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I took the easy way out here with Celebrian, buuuuuuut here are my reasons:  
> 1\. I like the Elrond and Celebrian pairing (actually) and it's kind of hard to split up a pairing you actually like and I don't see Celebrian as being a bitch. Since I think that elves are very reasonable creatures and compassionate I think that they are not likely to make a scene or very prone to jealousy. And I don't think she would hate Elrond for falling in love again.  
> 2\. She was warned by her mother and could prepare herself for what was to come. Thank god, she has Galadriel as her mother, who can look into the future.^^ Made it easier for me.... ;-P  
> 3\. This story gets longer and longer... -.- and I really didn't want to have to add a Celebrian-is-making-Elrond's-life-a-living-hell-arc. The same applies for the part were Celebrian tells Elrond that she already knew about Manwe. I read a story were somebody also let Manwe do the hard job and since them talking about the children there on the pier I decided to also do it this way.
> 
> So please excuse the easy way out here...
> 
> And according to the internet Siriann is a Silvan name for a male elf... I hope so.^^


	8. Epilogue part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry that it took a little longer to update but at least this chapter is a rather long one.^^ So please enjoy it.
> 
> Since I didn’t want to make you wait any longer I didn’t had the time to read through it a second time, so please excuse any mistakes you find.
> 
> I made a mistake in the previous chapter. I wrote that Galadriel and Celeborn were heading to her father’s house, but that is not true. Actually Celeborn is still in Middle-earth. I really don’t know why I didn’t notice this earlier because I had already written a scene with him in Middle-earth for the last chapter… so stupid… -.-

Elrond put some books back to their respective places on the shelf and rearranged them when the last in the row kept falling over. It was raining outside and he was alone. Celebrian had gone to Tirion to visit her family and would stay there for a while. When she would come back, she wouldn’t be alone. After spending some time in the house of King Finarfin in Tirion Galadriel had decided to move to his house for she missed the trees and the peace only a forest could offer. Something she could easily get in this house that had been inspired by the open architecture of Imladris. And she wanted to catch up on the time she had lost with her only child. Galadriel hadn’t condemned him for losing his heart to another. In fact Galadriel had known it for quite a while and as he knew now she had foreseen it even before Celebrian had left Middle-earth behind. But she had warned him with a smile that he shouldn’t venture too close to her father’s house whose only grandchild Celebrian was. So he should have been glad that everything had fallen into place so perfectly and yet everything was farer from being perfect than ever. He wanted to talk to him so desperately. He looked at the row of books now standing neatly in front of him. If he could only talk to Thranduil. If he could just hear his calm voice. If he could just know if the Elvenking had received the message he had written so many years ago. If he had read it. If it had meant something to him! Elrond slumped down into the chair that stood in front of his desk. It was untidy. Parchments were scattered over the desk. He hadn’t felt like keeping order since the chaos that reigned within him was far from being controlled. He felt so tired. And without him really noticing he grabbed one of the parchments that lay in front of him and a quill and began to write.

 

_Thranduil,_

_It is raining right now and I am alone in this house, thus my mind started to wander again. I want you to know, that I am still waiting and my heart yearns for your arrival. Every time another ship arrived from Middle-earth I was full of hope but after some years without any sight from you or my sons I stopped going to the pier. My heart simply couldn’t take it anymore. Some of the arriving elves told me what they had heard about you and your men freeing Greenwood the Great from what is left of Sauron’s army. To me it sounds like you are reestablishing your kingdom. It sounds like you will not sail in the near future… if ever… And while I look at me and remember the weakened state I was in after Sauron’s defeat, I wonder from where you get that strength to go on now that everything is over. But then I always knew you had it in you. I told you, you are no weak person. And yet I catch myself from time to time wishing your strength would fail you so that my waiting would finally end. I know I am being egoistic and I ask for your forgiveness…_

 

###

 

Thranduil was standing in front of his desk, looking through some documents, when he heard someone entering his study. He didn’t have to look up for he knew who had entered and why he had come to him, knew what he was going to tell him. He closed his eyes bracing his heart for what was to come.

"So now you are leaving me too.", he stated bitterly, putting the document he had held in his hand down.

"Then come with me, ada.", Legolas gently said, stopping a few meters behind his father, facing his father’s back.

"With you and that dwarf?" Thranduil nearly had to laugh.

What a picture this would be! Two elves and one dwarf arriving together in the Undying Lands... They would laugh at them, would look down on them. Them arriving with a… a simple dwarf. No he wouldn’t give them this satisfaction.

"I won't sail. My responsibilities lie with my people. And I will never set one foot on the shores of that land that belongs to the Valar." He nearly spat the last word.

Legolas' gaze dropped to the ground.

"So this is a farewell then.", he asked tentatively.

Thranduil took a deep breath.

"Yes, this is a farewell."

Legolas sighed.

"Then promise me that you remember that now there are two."

Thranduil turned around to face his son and gave him a questioning look.

"Two what?"

"Two persons waiting for you to sail to Valinor. For I haven't given up on you sailing someday. So I will wait for you to come and I am certain so does Lord Elrond."

Thranduil frowned, wondering why his son had suddenly brought up the Peredhel’s name. But he wasn’t in the least bit in the mood to talk about the former Lord of Imladris, he never had been in the past few years.

"That is not a good topic to talk about, just before you leave for good."

"There might be no other time, ada."

"That's fine with me. Some topics are better left alone." Especially this topic.

Legolas sighed.

"Why do you fight this friendship so much. I can't remember a time when you have been as much at ease as the time since your friendship with Lord Elrond had been implemented."

But Thranduil didn't answer, instead he turned and went to one of the sideboards on which a bottle of wine stood. Legolas watched his father’s back. It hadn’t escaped him that his father had gone back to being reserved and unapproachable, especially when it came to the friendship with the Lord of Imladris. This friendship, which had first let to him opening up. Legolas could only speculate about hat had led to the change in his father’s attitude, for his father would never talk to him about something as personal as the friendship he had with Lord Elrond. Maybe it was it because Lord Elrond had decided to sail, leaving his father behind… But then when he thought about it, even though he couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his father’s attitude had changed, he remembered it hadn't just started when Lord Elrond had sailed but years before that. But since his father and Lord Elrond had still frequently met until the latter had set sail, Legolas concluded that his father change wasn't because of a fight. He knew his father’s character too well. His father would have stopped meeting with the Lord of Imladris immediately if there had been a major difference in opinions. So for him it made absolutely no sense that his father became so guarded about the friendship with the Lord of Imladris. A friendship he knew his father had cherished… Something that had never happened as long as Legolas could remember. He watched his father uncorking the bottle of wine and pouring himself a glass. His father, the distant Elvenking, never had had any friends or confidants. Even between him and his wife there had been no love lost he had been told, even though the unwillingness had originated more from his mother’s side. So he only knew his father as being a lone and secluded person. It had always hurt him to see his father so alone and it still did now, even though he now knew the reasons for his father’s self-imposed isolation. And then… then it dawned on him.

"You are not fighting the friendship, you are fighting something else!", he said more to himself than to his father.

But when he saw a minimal change in his father’s posture he knew he had heard and he knew he was right. With a few steps he was beside his father who was just about to drink a huge glass of wine, presumably trying to drown some unwanted feelings and grabbed his father’s wrist.

"Ada. Look at me."

But his father wasn’t someone to take orders and thus it didn’t surprise him when his father didn’t turn his head to look at him, so he continued with a softer voice.

"You are fighting, what Lord Elrond has become to you."

Thranduil wrested his wrist free.

“That is not of your concern.” His voice was cold and harsh.

“It might not be, but you are. You are of my concern, ada.”

Only now did Thranduil turn around to face his son.

“I pushed you away, ionneg.”

But Legolas shook his head.

“You tried, but I didn’t let you. Because I remembered how you were when I was little, how you held me close, how you cared for me and protected me. And I knew, that the love you had for me then, was still in you all that time, although I didn’t know why you had changed, why you had buried it deep down. We only had each other.”

His father didn’t avert his eyes and Legolas knew that even today he wouldn’t get an answer. And he most likely never would. But it was fine with him. He was glad that his father had at least opened up again in the last few centuries. And he knew that he owed that to the Lord of Imladris.

“He did you so much good.”

And suddenly Legolas saw a change in his father’s pale blue eyes, saw the pain and sadness within.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Father…” But Thranduil raised his hand, silently stopping his son.

“Don’t. He is in Valinor with his beloved wife, where he longed to be for centuries, where he can recover and heal. And I will stay here in Middle-earth with my kin. It is my decision to stay, like it was his and yours to sail. So don’t.”

Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but his father beat him to it.

“Please, ionneg.”

Legolas looked at his father in surprise. His father, King of the Woodland Realm never begged… had never begged until… until he had met the Lord of Imladris. And he wondered how deeply his father had been touched by Lord Elrond.

“Do you remember your favorite spot of the forest when you were still a young elfling?”, his father suddenly asked, changing the topic and Legolas, seeing how much the topic of Lord Elrond obviously disturbed his father, accepted it. And he wouldn’t force his father.

“Of course. That place where thousands of fireflies danced through the night. You showed it to me, when I so desperately wanted to see the vast sky and the countless stars described in a story you had read to me. But the trees were still too high for me to climb them then. So you took me there instead.”

Thranduil smiled sadly.

“Yes, that place. You were so young then.”

He held out his hand.

“We should go there… one last time.”

Legolas smiled back and took his father’s hand into his own.

 

###

 

Elrond was walking besides his former king through the streets of Tirion. He had decided that change of scenery would do him some good, would take his mind off of the Elvenking that still resided in Middle-earth. So he had gone to Tirion and met with his old friend. Ereinion was eager to know everything that he had done after the Last Alliance. But right now they shared a moment of silence and just walked next to each other, enjoying the peaceful afternoon.

“She told me that she has lost your love.”, Ereinion suddenly said without preamble.

Elrond knew Celebrian had met with Ereinion during her stays in Tirion but he hadn’t known that she had talked with Ereinion about the state of their relationship. Up till now it was rather unknown that they were no longer a couple since they lived outside of the city.

“Say, mellon nin, is there no hope for the two of you?”

Elrond halted and turned towards his old friend, who also stopped. He glowered at him, not quite sure if he really should be angry that his friend would ask something so intimate. Ereinion immediately raised his hands in defense.

“I am sorry. It wasn’t my intention to pry.”

“Really?! Because it sounded exactly like prying.”

Ereinion laughed.

“Forgive me, Elrond. I’m just concerned for you.”

Elrond knew he was right. They had had been close friends for ages and Ereinion had never done anything to discredit him. But he had forgotten how it felt to have a friend with whom he could talk about certain affairs of the heart.

“No need to apologize. But you are right. There is no hope for the two of us.”

Ereinion sighed and closed his eyes for a short moment.

“Do I know her? Celebrian told me she is of noble descent.”

Now it was Elrond, who sighed. There we go again.

“Yes, indeed, you were acquainted.”

Ereinion looked at him questioningly.

“Wherefrom? Did we meet in Lindon?”

“Yes, a few times.”

“Noldorin?”

If only Thranduil could hear you calling him a Noldo, he would even hate you more, Elrond thought. He was certain that Thranduil still had a slight dislike for the Noldor like so many Sindar, especially since his father had witnessed the Second Kinslaying in Doriath with his own eyes.

“I’m afraid not:”

“A Sinda then?”

“Yes.”

He decided to make it easier for Ereinion.

“But the meetings in Lindon might not be the ones you remember, for there was another meeting far more memorable.”

“Where then? In Imladris?”

“No.”

Elrond let his gaze drop to the ground, when the memories of this place resurfaced for just the blink of a second.

“A far darker place. A place you didn’t leave alive.”

He fought the memories of a dying Ereinion.

“Dagorlad?”, Ereinion asked and when Elrond nodded he looked up into the blue sky, thinking.

It wasn’t for the first time that Elrond noticed that his own death left Ereinion cold, while he himself had never managed to get these pictures, the pictures of his dying friend, out of his head. And thus while he wrestled some of his worst memories, Ereinion was fully concentrated on solving the mystery of his friend’s new love.

“I fear for your sanity, mellon nin! There was no such maiden present! At least I don’t recall meeting any maiden there that matches your description.”

So this was it… the moment. Elrond looked his friend directly into his eyes and the smile on Ereinion’s lips disappeared. Ereinion knew that something was off.

“What is it, mellon nin?”

Elrond swallowed.

“I never said that it was a maiden.”

Elrond watched as it dawned on Ereinion, watched as his face fell. He had been slightly quicker than Celebrian.

“Don’t tell me you are talking about Thranduil Oropherion?!”

Elrond sighed.

“Then, my friend, I would have to lie.”

When Ereinion didn’t say anything for quite a while, Elrond turned around and continued to walk down the road. He wouldn’t wait for Ereinion to speak ill of Thranduil for he knew there was neither friendship nor esteem lost between the two Elvenkings. He would talk about it but only if Ereinion accepted his choice. He had followed Gil-Galad long enough, now it was time that Gil-Galad followed him. And indeed, to Elrond’s surprise Ereinion caught up to him.

“Elrond, wait!”

He turned around and faced his friend.

“When? How? There was nothing but hate coming from his side when we last met. Not only towards me but also towards you. Did you… did your heart already belong to him then?”

Elrond nearly laughed.

“No! Do you really think I would have taken Celebrian as my wife, when my heart already belonged to someone else? There might have been no hate between us, from my point of view but neither was there any sympathy. Compassion maybe, because he had lost his father but then so many of us had lost someone… I then thought that he was simply arrogant. I never knew what load he was carrying on his shoulders…”

Elrond remembered Thranduil, then new King of the Woodland Realm, and his temper at Dagorlad. Thranduil had been unwilling to listen to their plans and strategies. He had claimed that they were willingly risking the lives of his people, letting them fight at the most dangerous places in order to save as many Noldor as possible, who were obviously that more valuable than his kin. It had been a severe accusation even if spoken in the heat of the moment. They had all been at their worst then, but Thranduil had been the only one to openly show it. And that trait of him, to not hold back frustration and enragement, to speak openly ignoring all matters of courtesy, was still present and it made him so different from all the other elves. It made him special.

“I remember, he was very talented in wielding twin swords.”, Ereinion suddenly said quietly.

“He still is.”

A smile appeared on Elrond’s face as he remembered the few occasions they had decided to compare their fighting skills during Thranduil’s stay in Imladris.

“Don’t tell me my herald lost the sparring matches against the King of the Woodland Realm.”, Ereinion asked in mock-seriousness.

“I am afraid so, my king. If I hadn’t known of his slightly limited field of vision on his left side, then I most likely would have lost more than half of the matches. With this knowledge however I could at least ensure that each of us ended up winning half of the matches.”

Ereinion looked at him in surprise.

“Limited field of vision? What do you mean by that?”

“His left eye… He is blind in his left eye. He hides it well. You wouldn’t notice it.”

“I didn’t know he was hurt at Dagorlad.”

Elrond shook his head.

“He wasn’t. It happened when he was still young, when his father fought the dragons in northern Middle-earth. It was a dragon’s fire.”

Ereinion shook his head in disbelieve.

“He survived Dagorlad, where so many excellent warriors lost their lives, even though he is blind in one eye?! And even though I always thought him to be a good warrior, I think I have underestimated his abilities… And I was shocked to learn that he shared his father’s views. I had thought that he would be more open-minded since he had spent a part of his childhood in Lindon.”

“But he still grew up with Oropher’s views on the world.”

When Ereinion suddenly turned away from him, showing him his backside Elrond knew that he wouldn’t like what Ereinion would say next. Ereinion had never been able to look into his eyes when he had had to deliver bad news.

“What?”, he asked impatiently.

“Elrond…”, Ereinion began. “Oropher refused to leave the Halls of Mandos.”

Elrond closed his eyes.

“You know how much he distrusted the Valar. He couldn’t bear to live in Valinor. He preferred staying in the Halls of Mandos to living in the land of the Valar.”, Ereinion continued and Elrond knew perfectly well what Ereinion was implying.

How strong had Oropher’s influence on his son been? How probable was it that Thranduil followed his father’s example and really never considered living in Valinor? Was Thranduil really lost to him forever? Elrond tried with all his power to push this thought far away to the very back of his mind, tried to ignore the doubt that was nagging at his heart. He wouldn’t believe this, couldn’t believe it because if he did… if he just thought for one moment, that Thranduil would never even in the far future come to Valinor, that he would never see the Elvenking again… then he was certain his heart would shatter.

“Did he tell you, that he would follow you?”

Elrond took a deep breath and shook his head.

“No, he told me, he would never sail.”

“So he doesn’t feel the same?”, Ereinion asked tentatively.

Elrond sighed. How would he know?

“I never told him what I was feeling because I didn’t know it myself.” Because he had been too blind and too ignorant.

 

###

 

Thranduil sat on his throne in the main hall, taking a nip of the red wine in his glass and watched his people celebrating and drinking and being merry, while in him there was no merriness left. He felt numb and empty. And the wine tasted bitter and dull on his tongue. The rhythm of the music didn’t catch him and he felt so utterly out of place that the urge to just leave was nearly too strong to fight it back. And yet the night was still young. It would arise questions if he already left, because he had never left early. And for a brief moment he had thought about benumbing his senses and feelings with alcohol in order to forget at least for a few hours about the Peredhel. But this had been before he had tasted the wine, before he had noticed that his senses were already playing tricks with his tormented mind. Never could he drink enough of that awful wine for it to have an effect on his feelings. So instead he was now sitting here watching his people celebrating, while he just wanted to leave, to lie back and feel nothing.

“My lord, are you not feeling well?”

Thranduil looked up from the glass in his hand, which he had been swirling absent-mindedly, focused on the vortex of red liquid, red like the fresh blood he had seen too often in his life seeping out of warm and cold bodies alike. He glowered at his guard who had uttered the question and was now standing in front of him, he waved him off without a word. The music kept invading his ears and he felt a headache coming. He hadn’t slept well the past few weeks because too many memories ran though his mind and he went to the library in order to look for a book that would take his mind off of those memories. It took quite a while now for him to find a book he didn’t already know. He took another sip of his wine. The awful taste nauseated him. He massaged his temples but it didn’t help to fight off the headache. Insufferable… This situation was just insufferable. He rose to his feed and as some of his people that were close to him stopped laughing, talking and drinking he told them to go on with a short wave of his hand, before escaping through the nearest door. It didn’t take him long to reach his chambers. With a sigh of relief he closed the doors behind him, noticing that he still held the glass of wine in his hand. Sighing he went over to his desk, which he had nearly reached, when the room suddenly started to spin. He stopped dead in his tracks, trying to regain control over his body, but the room kept on spinning, throwing him of balance. He tried to reach his desk with his free hand, looking for something that would prevent him from falling. Too late. He lost his footing and fell backwards. He heard the glass shatter into thousand pieces on the floor next to him, before he landed with his back on the soft ground. Elves, clad in full armor were running past him, others ran to him and fell to their knees next to him, bending over him, screaming for a healer. He didn’t feel anything and he couldn’t move. He felt oddly detached from what was happening around him. His gaze was directed skywards. It was painted in red… flame red. This sky… he would remember this particular red sky as long as he lived, the gleaming rain of countless sparks, the hot air, which had made every breath nearly unbearable. A face appeared in his field of vision, a face he hadn’t seen for a long time, a face crowned with silver hair…

“Father…”

“Sh, ionneg, don’t speak. You are going to be fine! Stay with me! Please, I am begging you, stay with me!”

The fear he could see in his father’s eyes was overwhelming. And yet in the end he had stayed… his father had been the one who had left.

“The healer, my lord!”, he heard someone say and a second face appeared in his field of vision. A face that didn’t belong here.

“A dragon’s fire!”

Elrond touched his cheek with his hand and with the touch the pain came. Suddenly he could feel the flames again, burning him, eating away his flesh to the bones, setting his nerves on fire, burning through his whole body. And he could only scream until darkness overcame him, freed him from the pain… at least temporarily. When he reopened his eyes he could see her golden hair swaying in a light summer breeze, could hear her clear laughter, could see how her beautiful face turned into a face of utter disgust and repulsion. It had shattered his heart so utterly that when they had shown him her disfigured corpse, an indifferent shrug and a dismissive wave of his hand had been all he could spare for her.

“A dragon’s fire!”

Elrond was standing in front of him, reaching out to him, softly touching his disfigured face like he had done so often. No sign of disgust evident on the Peredhel’s face. There was just this soft touch, a touch that had been the first for him to feel after so many centuries. They were looking into each others’ eyes. Eyes, he would never see again, a touch he would never feel again. He closed his eyes, trying to focus exclusively on Elrond’s touch. However it vanished and when he snapped his eyes open he was facing the ceiling of his study. His right hand lay in a puddle, presumably the red wine that had still been in the glass when he had dropped it. And as he lay there he noticed that while he had thought all this time that his left eye was utterly useless… it could still produce a tear.

 

###

 

When Ereinion walked the down the corridor leading to Elrond’s study he hesitated for the blink of a second as he saw a Sindarin elf and… a dwarf coming towards him. Both of them he had never seen. He was sure of that. And after overcoming the first shock of seeing a dwarf in Valinor he noticed that the elf’s features were kind of familiar. They greeted each other with a slight bow of their heads as they passed each other. And Ereinion wondered why this elf looked so familiar.

Ereinion entered Elrond’s study and saw his former herald sitting slumped down on a chair his head buried in his hands.

“Who was this?”

Elrond raised his head, surprise evident in his eyes. Obviously he hadn’t noticed Ereinion entering the room.

“This was Legolas Thranduilion and Gimli, son of Glóin.”

So that was why this elf looked so familiar to him even though he knew he had never seen him before. It was Thranduil’s son. And he couldn’t deny that he had inherited some of his father’s beauty. Even though their relationship might have been strained there was no denying that Thranduil’s beauty surpassed the beauty of most elves. A fact that had been no secret among the elves in Middle-earth. But Thranduil’s cold and distant demeanor had diminished the outward perception of his beauty. And later on he was mostly renowned for his unapproachable and harsh personality. And from what Ereinion had heard this hadn’t changed after the defeat of Sauron.

“They arrived today.”

And the look of desperation on his former herald’s face told Ereinion all he had to know.

“He came alone.”

Elrond stood up and turned around to his desk, leaning on it for support.

“No, are you not listening?! He came with his friend!”

Elrond’s voice had become harsh and unforgiving, something Ereinion had rarely witnessed during all those years they had known each other. And it told him how much his friend was actually suffering for Elrond was known for his calm and patient character.

“Did he have a message for you?”

Elrond nodded.

“He told me that his father, King of the Woodland Realm sends me and my wife his best wishes.”

Ereinion’s heart went out to his friend. He could just try to imagine what a blow to the heart this message must have been.

“Surely, this wasn’t everything, was it?”

He wanted to be angry at Thranduil for being so inconsiderate, but he couldn’t because for once Thranduil actually hadn’t done anything wrong. Thranduil didn’t know what Elrond felt for him because Elrond had never told him and he didn’t know that Elrond and Celebrian had ended their relationship, because there was simply no way he could have known.

“No, this wasn’t everything. Obviously he is successfully strengthening his realm.”

“But surely now that his son sailed he will follow someday.”

“Legolas was the sole heir to the throne of the Woodland Realm. With him gone, there is no successor. Why should Thranduil leave his kin now when there is no one to take the throne?”

“So you think he lets his son sail without the intention of ever following him?!”

Elrond turned around and faced him.

“You of all people know the duties that come with being a king so don’t judge him because I know that you would have done the same if you would have found yourself in his position.”

Ereinion didn’t avert his eyes.

“I know, but seeing you now and seeing the pain his actions inflict on you makes it hard not to see fault in anything that he does, rightful as it may be if considered rationally.”

 

###

 

Legolas walked down the corridor next to his friend who was stopping now and then to take a closer look on a figurine or a graving.

“This house looks just like Rivendell.”

Legolas smiled.

“Not quite, my friend, but very similar.”

Gimli made a face, while Legolas took a look outside.

“And what have these sharp eyes of yours perceived to say this, if I may ask?”

“Take a look outside.”

Gimli looked at him suspiciously before walking past him onto the balcony. It didn’t take him long to discover the fair elven maiden down in the gardens. Gimli took a deep breath.

“Lady Galadriel.”

„Have you ever seen her in Imladris?“, Legolas asked with a raised eyebrow.

Gimli turned around, facing his friend, uttering a silent harrumph. Legolas could easily see how his friend slightly reddened and it didn’t take long for Gimli to avert his eyes and instead study his hands.

“Why don’t you go to her?”, Legolas proposed and Gimli raised his gaze again.

“You think, I could do that?”

Legolas smiled at him.

“Why not? Go ahead, I will wait here. Take your time, there is no need to hurry anymore.“

Gimli nodded.

“You are right. Maybe I should talk to her. She might want to know what happened after her departure.”

Legolas knew better than to disappoint his friend by telling him that Lady Galadriel was most likely very well informed about the ongoings in Middle-earth.

“Yes, go ahead.”

Gimli straightened himself and took another deep breath before he ventured of, looking for a way that lead into the gardens. Legolas walked onto the balcony and let his gaze wander over the beautiful landscape in front of him and then let it linger on the nearby forest. It was calling to him.

“Lindir told me that we have visitors from Middle-earth.”

Legolas turned around and found himself face to face with a beautiful elven maiden he didn’t know.

“So you are Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm?”

Legolas bowed, awed by her radiant appearance that was only surpassed by that of Lady Galadriel.

“Yes , my lady.”

She smiled at him, but then she averted her gaze and looked past him. Legolas turned back to the gardens and followed her gaze. He saw his friend Gimli walking to Lady Galadriel who was smiling at the dwarf.

“So what Lindir said is true… a dwarf in Valinor. I thought I would never see one of these skilful smiths again. What a delight!”

“He was granted to sail to the West with me, due to him being an elf-friend.”

“Ah, and for a short moment I feared for my mother’s life. Because I know how annoying she can be and I assumed that maybe she has put him off during your stay in Lothlórien.”

Legolas turned to the woman he now knew to be Celebrian, daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel and wife of Lord Elrond. And when he saw her smile he knew she had been jesting.

“I am glad to see you apparently fully recovered, Lady Celebrian.”

“Thank you.”

They heard laughter from the gardens and looked down to see Galadriel laughing.

“Do you already know where to stay?”

Celebrian stood now next to him near the balustrade.

“No, I don’t have any relatives here. I was hoping to meet my grandfather but I was told he refused to leave the Halls of Mandos.”

“I am afraid that is true.”

“I was thinking of staying in the forest for a while.”

He pointed to the forest nearby.

“Why don’t you ask Elrond if you could stay here in his house? I am certain he would welcome you and your friend. And the forest is not far. But you have to ask him, for it is not my decision anymore.”

He turned his head to her with a questioning look and she looked directly into his eyes.

“We are no longer husband and wife.”

He turned fully to her.

“But why?”

He had heard about how desperate Lord Elrond had been when his love had sailed, how hard it had been for the Lord of Imladris to go on after that and how long it had taken him to recover at least so far to function again. All this had been evidence to him how deep the love between the Lord and Lady of Imladris had been. To hear now that this love hadn’t survived a millennium of separation surprised him.

“He lost his heart to another.”

He couldn’t stand her piercing blue eyes and had to look away, because it made sense now, the way Lord Elrond’s demeanor had changed after hearing the message from his father. How the Lord of Imladris had practically slumped down on his chair, as though he had lost all hope. And it even would explain his father’s demeanor. Maybe he hadn’t been sure how to treat Lord Elrond after knowing how the Lord of Imladris felt towards him, not wanting to end this deep friendship they had shared.

“My father…”

The silence of Lady Celebrian that ensued was answer enough.

“I am sorry… I didn’t know…”

He felt her hand on his shoulder.

“We all didn’t know, except for my mother. Even Elrond didn’t know before he came to Valinor.”

“What?” He turned around facing her again.

“He didn’t tell my father?”

She looked at him, her eyes wide.

“No, he told us he didn’t know what he was feeling, until he embraced me after arriving. After he felt that embracing me felt so wrong. Why?”

“Because my father… maybe…“

Could it be? Could it be that his father wasn’t disturbed by the fact that his friend had left for Valinor but that the person he felt more than simple friendship for had left Middle-earth? Could it be that his father had finally found someone to open his heart to, after spending so many millennia alone?

“Because I think, he also feels more than friendship for Lord Elrond.”

Her hand was on his arm, her grip strong, demanding.

“What makes you think that?”

And then he told her about the changes he had witnessed in his father, in his father’s demeanor centuries before Lord Elrond had left and in the centuries that had followed after Lord Elrond’s departure. Told her about his father’s reactions when Lord Elrond’s name had come up.

“There is something. And I know it is not hate, because I have seen him showing hate towards others constantly and I know him showing indifference towards others. But it wasn’t anything of that. I have never seen him like that, so out of character. I thought about telling Lord Elrond when I met him today, but I decided against it. I didn’t want to cause him any worries. For I knew how concerned he always was with my father’s wellbeing but being here in Valinor there is nothing he could do to help him.”

“I think you did right in not telling him.”

“But why? Wouldn’t it be a relief for him to know that my father might feel the same?”

But Lady Celebrian just shook her head.

“And then what, Prince Legolas? Did your father tell you he would follow you to Valinor?”

Legolas’ gaze dropped to the ground.

“No, he told me he would never sail.”

“Then why should we raise his hopes, when there is not even a slight chance of a happy end for him. Why let him hope in vain? It might sound cruel but maybe it is better for him not to know about your father’s feelings. Maybe time will heal his heart if we don’t raise new hopes.”

Legolas nodded. He understood and he knew that Celebrian was right. It was in his father’s hands now. There was nothing Lord Elrond could do. Lord Elrond’s heart was in his father’s hand. And he could only hope that his father knew how to handle it.

 

###

 

Thranduil wandered through the library, reading title after title while walking past the shelves. He was sure that meanwhile he knew the library by heart, knew which book would be the next in the row and the next after that and the next. It was for the first time in his life that a library didn’t offer him any comfort. And even his duties as king didn’t offer him any distraction anymore, now that no imminent dangers lurked at the borders of his kingdom anymore. There had been times, when being king of this small realm had caused him endless sleepless nights, but now he didn’t have to fear for his kin anymore. Sure there was still a small number of orcs running around in his kingdom and he was certain that it would still take some time, till the Greenwood was again free of these hordes, but this was nothing that bothered anyone. They had faced far graver things. But now Dol Guldur was defeated, Sauron was defeated and Middle-earth was at peace. And while this was something he had wished for for so long, something he had never thought possible, something over which he should be relieved beyond words, now he felt worse than before. And he knew why, knew why his heart felt so heavy and yet so empty at the same time, but he also knew that he could do nothing against it. Elrond was gone, gone to a place he couldn’t follow him, because it went against everything he believed in, against everything he was, against everything he had to go through in his life. And then his eyes landed on a spear hanging on the wall between some shelves and knew what he could do to numb his wild running feelings, to silence his heart, to distract him. He would hunt! He turned around enthusiastically and walked to his chambers with long strides in order to get his weapons. When he met Lórintal on his way he ordered her to saddle his horse and Lórintal bowed before hurrying in the direction of the stables.

Elrond put the saddle on his horse and fastened the saddle girth. The weather was nice and he knew he was too agitated to concentrate on a book. So sometimes like today he would take his horse and leave his house for a few hours because he needed a change of scenery to take his mind off the Elvenking. He got on his horse, led it out of the stables and enjoyed the sun that warmed his skin.

Thranduil followed the path with his horse only for a short while. He knew his forest too well and didn't depend on the path and his horse wouldn't be of any use in the thick forest that was the Greenwood. He let his horse chose its pace because he wasn't in a hurry. He had time. He knew orcs were in the forest. They had entered the forest after the War of the Ring, after their master's defeat. And while his men had been quite successful hunting them down, reducing their number they all knew there were still hordes of orcs roaming the forest. And he wouldn't wait until they slowly died due to the Greenwood being a hostile forest for all who didn't know how to live within it. And even though he knew that him riding out alone to hunt them was unwise, he didn't care. He needed distraction and distraction he would get from hunting the orcs that had dared to enter his kingdom.

Elrond lead his white horse down the small path that let into the forest that lay beneath his house. He knew the path quite well as well as the forest because he had ventured there quite often during the last few years since his library didn't offer him any distraction anymore, for by now he knew most of the parchments and books by heart. So instead he had started to explore the area surrounding his home and after a while he had noticed that the forest offered him some kind of ease he couldn't find anywhere else neither around nor in his own house. So when he reached the forest, he dropped the reins and let his horse choose its own pace. The horse nickered and trotted happily into the forest.

When Thranduil reached a spot where he could easily leave the path and venture into the thick forest he halted his horse and dismounted, leaving it standing on the path. He knew it would wait for him to come back, since it was well trained. He took a deep breath and entered the thick understory.

A sudden noise in the understory to Elrond’s left caught his attention. The ears of his horse twitched. If he had been in Middle-earth he would have drawn his sword. But here in Valinor there was no reason to do that, there were not threats, no orcs, but he halted his horse nonetheless to take a closer look. There was the noise again and Elrond decided to dismount and to really take a closer look. He wouldn’t say anything against a short little adventure. It would help him even more to not think about Thranduil. So he tied the reins around a nearby tree and left his horse on the path, while he left the path and went into the forest.

First Thranduil just went deeper into forest without having any particular destination. He was sure, if orcs were near he would sooner or later stumble across them, without actively searching for them. And he had time. There was no need to hurry. Nobody was waiting for him in his halls to return soon. Nothing was left to do in his kingdom like on so many days before, nothing to occupy himself with, nothing to divert himself.

The forest wasn’t very thick and so Elrond had few problems to walk through the understory. But it didn’t take long for the understory to become thicker and it slowed him down. And then it hit him, he had time… he didn’t have to hurry. There was nothing to do for him in his house. He slowed down and patiently fought his way through the understory.

After walking through the forest for a few hours a smell entered Thranduil’s nose, a smell he knew too well. A smell that let the bile rose in his throat but he followed the smell nonetheless because he knew it would lead him to his desired distraction. And the smell became stronger very quickly, while he followed it light-footedly. Soon he found footprints and small puddles of a foul-smelling and thick fluid. Twelve orcs and one of them injured and the trace they had left you couldn’t miss. This was just too easy. He followed the traces and when he finally heard their voices he knew that they weren’t too far ahead anymore. He simply followed the smell and their voices and only when he knew that he was close did he become more careful, using trees to hide. But he was too quiet and quick and they too loud and inattentive. So that he really didn’t need to worry to be detected by any of the orcs. Obviously they felt secure enough to not appoint a watch. How stupid. And yet even if they had this wouldn’t stop him. They were doomed anyway. The foul became too much and then he saw them crouched down on the forest floor. A horde of twelve orcs and one of them with a bleeding leg. Thranduil took his bow from his back and draw his first arrow, nocking it onto his bowstring and took aim.

Elrond walked into the direction where the nose had come from. A patch of mud on the forest floor told him everything what he had to know. A herd of deer had walked through it leaving behind numerous prints. They were still fresh, not older than a few minutes. It must have been a small herd, maybe not more than seven individuals. He had followed the traces a few minutes when he saw the first deer grazing in the distance. Carefully he got closer until he had a good view on them without disturbing them. And indeed the herd comprised seven individuals. Elrond had no problem to detect them even though they blended in perfectly well with the surrounding forest due to their brown fur.

Thranduil hit the first orc in the neck. The horde reacted immediately, some jerked around to where the arrow had obviously come from, while others ran to their comrade to tend for his wound. They didn’t know yet that it would be in vain, he was already dead. Thranduil had made sure of that. A second and third orc were now dashing towards him, having spotted him. He pulled two arrows out of his quiver, notched them onto his bowstring and took aim, holding his bow horizontally. He hit both of them in the forehead, killing them instantly. A forth orc was directly behind them, running towards him and had nearly reached him, so Thranduil decided against nocking the arrow he had just drawn from his quiver onto his bowstring. Instead he dodged the blow the orc had aimed at him and simultaneously turned around his own axis using the momentum he had gained by doing so to ram the arrow in between two vertebrae severing the spinal cord of the orc who had by now ran past him,. The orc screamed and collapsed like a house of cards, as he lost control of his lower body. A fifth orc launched at him and Thranduil blocked the orc’s mace above his head with his bow, while he unsheathed his sword with his right hand, cut his opponent’s front open, used the momentum to whirl around and beheaded the orc who had dropped to his knees. He kicked the severed head and hit a sixth orc hard in the head with it, confusing him for the blink of a second he needed to bury his sword hilt-deep into the orc’s ribcage. The orc at the brink of death tried to grab him, while Thranduil watched the rest of the horde dashing away. Obviously they had realized that they had no chance against him. He put his foot against the abdomen of the orc that still hung on his blade and pushed him away, freeing his blade. While still holding his sword he draw another arrow with two free fingers and notched it onto his bowstring, draw the bow and hit the seventh orc, who had been the last to flee with the other ones, because he had been injured, in the back, piercing his heart from behind. He watched the last orc disappear in a thick hedge in the distance and sighed. Cowards. He sheathed his sword and went back to the orc he had immobilized earlier. The orc had tried to crawl away but hadn’t gotten very far. Thranduil stopped right before him and the orc looked up, looking directly into Thranduil’s eyes. Thranduil draw his bow and took aim, killing the orc by driving an arrow into his brain through his left eye. Then he collected some of his arrows and set off to chase the rest of the horde.

Suddenly the deer raised their heads in alarm und looked around. Elrond also turned his head, for he too had heard another noise in the distance. But it had been too far away to imply any imminent danger to the deer. But he could clearly see that they were irritated and when the noise could be heard for a second time they fled over a nearby slope and disappeared into the thick forest. Elrond looked after them and after weighing his options he decided against going back to his horse for the sun was still high in the sky and thus he still had enough time left before it became dark. So rather than riding around aimlessly he decided t follow the deer. It would be a small challenge to track them down again, so at least his mind would be occupied.

Thranduil followed them through the hedge, because he could smell, that they didn’t linger in it, but had broken through the hedge at the opposite side. The trace they had left told him that they were running towards a small brook that ran nearby. He climbed a small slope and found himself looking down at the remaining five orcs that were standing at the bank of the brook, which was rather deep at this spot. Obviously they were debating about whether to cross it or not. He draw another arrow and killed the eighth orc from where he stood, not bothering to hide, for he knew he wouldn’t need to hide, not from this ridiculous horde of orcs. The orc he had hit fell into the brook and disappeared. The other orcs were facing him now and then dashed towards him screaming. Obviously they didn’t bother that they had to fight uphill, giving him another advantage. He put the bow on his back, because killing them from where he stood would be too quick. Instead he unsheathed his sword and decided to meet them in the middle of the slope. He blocked the blow of one orc and simultaneously drew one of the two throwing knives he carried on his back, throwing it an orc who tried to attack him from the side. It hit him between his eyes and the orc fell backwards, being already dead when he hit the ground. When the orc in front of him tried to land a another blow he beat him to it and cut of his arm and with his second blow he cut open the throat of the tenth orc. The orc choked and collapsed. The last two orcs had obviously decided against fighting him, instead one of them was running along the river, while the second tried to cross the brook. And when he saw how the orc struggled he was sure he would drown without him having to do anything. He slowly walked down the slope and sheathed his sword. He took his bow from his back and drew an arrow from his quiver, aiming patiently at the orc running along the brook, while he noticed that the other orc’s head had submerged. He took his time, giving the other orc some time to raise his hopes, when he actually was already dead, because he wouldn’t escape his arrow that was for sure. He released the arrow, hitting the orc in his neck. But while he watched the orc collapse he detected a movement on the other side of the brook out of the corner of his eye.

Elrond broke through another thick shrub, bringing his arms in front of his face in order to protect it from being hit by the branches. And when he had finally freed himself he stopped dead in his tracks. In front of him was a small brook dividing a meadow into two parts. There was no sign of the deer he had followed but opposite to him on the other part of the meadow there he stood… a white stag. The stag watched him with his pale blue eyes, his head crowned with majestic antlers held high and his fur almost silver in the bright sun of the afternoon. A true king of the forest.

Thranduil turned around to where he had seen the movement, pulling an arrow out of his quiver, nocking it onto his bowstring, drawing the bow and taking aim in one fluid motion. He halted his fingers, which had been ready to release the arrow when he saw what he was aiming at. He blinked, not believing his eyes, but still the scene before him didn’t change… The opposite bank was empty. There was… nothing. He had been so sure he had seen something move on the other side of the river. He slowly put his bow down. His eyes never betrayed him… his heart sank as a thought entered his mind. He whirled around to look at the dead orcs. Maybe his mind had tricked him again, as it had so often done, maybe the horde of orcs had only existed in his mind, and maybe he had just imagined everything. With shaking knees he went over to the orc that lay closest to him. With shaking hands he bent down to touch the dead orc, to make sure the orc was real. Relief washed over him as his fingers connected with the rough skin of the orc. They had been real! He hadn’t imagined them. His mind hadn’t tricked him. He let go of his bow, which fell to the ground unnoticed. Then he slumped down on a big root. He was so tired, so tired of not knowing what was real and what just imagination… his mind was so tired… tired of fighting the memories of the Peredhel that dared to appear in his head every day. All these past centuries he had fought those memories of the battles and wars he had fought, had been afraid of the memories finally catching up on him. But now he was sitting among slaughtered orcs, slaughtered by him with his own hands in order to divert his mind. His sole intention had been to find diversion, not to clean the Greenwood. He had killed, had waged war in order to drive the Peredhel from his mind. He had sought out what he had so desperately tried to forget, had enjoyed what had tortured his mind and soul all those past millennia, only to forget about the Peredhel, because the memories of the Peredhel caused him so much more pain than the memories from past battles ever could. They were memories of a time when he hadn’t felt like an empty shell even though evil had lurked right outside of the borders of his realm. Memories of happier times during a time where he had thought death and despair was all he would find. And if Elrond could see him now, he was certain, he would turn away in disappointment and worse in disgust, because he had besmirched the memories of Elrond, who had tried everything in his power to help him overcome the memories that tormented his very soul. This was a thought that caused a sudden sharp pain in his heart. And only then did he realize how blind he had been all this time. Blind to that emptiness that had begun to grow in his heart the moment he had bid farewell to the Peredhel, to the emptiness that called out to the only being that had ever breached his cold exterior from the outside, blind to this unfamiliar longing that had manifested itself in his constant dreams of the Peredhel, who was out there, so far away from this very place. It was then that he felt the weight of his crown with all the responsibilities that came with it pressing down on him for the first time in millennia. It was tying him down to Middle-earth like a chain made of iron. He was so tired… tired of everything, tired of the lonely life he was living, tired of his responsibilities, tired of always putting his duties first and tired of this crown. And although most of his people wouldn’t understand, he suddenly knew that he would give it all up, if he only could see Elrond again, if he only could have the chance of catching one quick glimpse of Elrond ever again. He buried his head in his hands… he had been so blind.

Thranduil stood in his chambers, took the crown from his head and looked at it for a few moments, turning it in his hands, tracing the delicate branches and the small red leaves that were growing on them with his fingers. Finally he took a deep breath and sighed before placing the crown on its cushion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ionneg = my son
> 
> Thranduil and Legolas going to Legolas’ favorite place was inspired by Kinko-White’s picture “Walking in Starlight”. You can find it on deviantart.
> 
> The last part of Thranduil, where he thinks about his duties as king was partially inspired by Jack’s Lament from A Nightmare before Christmas.^^ Love that song.
> 
> And I decided that Elrond would call Gil-Galad Ereinion to show their close friendship. Actually Gil-Galad should only appear once but you know… a High King taking orders from a mere human author… tzzz
> 
> As for the white stag: I first thought about Elrond seeing Thranduil but then I decided against it, because I didn’t know how to explain it (save for some Vala decided to intervene) and it seemed to be a too direct approach. Then I decided to use some animals (I actually wanted Thranduil to see an animal to, but decided against it). So I just wrote that Elrond would see a stag, because a stag is sometimes considered “king of the forest” ( Bambi^^) and this would kind of hint at Thranduil, who is also some kind of a king of a forest. Then I decided to make it a white stag in order to hint at Thranduil (hair color). Then when I looked up what a white stag symbolizes I found that a white stag in some cultures is seen as a messenger from another world (often the afterworld), so this could be a hint at Middle-earth (if you consider Middle-earth to be “another world” compared to Valinor). A white stag can also symbolize change. So something is going to change. And then I found out that Bilbo and the dwarves saw some white deer upon entering Mirkwood. So the white stag also hints at Mirkwood. And since all of these aspects fitted so very well, I decided to keep the white stag in the story, although just that you know, the white stag is not Thranduil.^^
> 
> And the most important part. You might wonder why nobody was put off by the fact that Elrond fell in love with a male elf. Since I see the elves as being very open-minded and accepting I don’t think they would have a problem with homosexuality. So this is how I see the elvish society. Maybe it is even quite common. And although Tolkien never mentioned homosexuality in his books: the absence of evidence is not the evidence of absence.^^
> 
> And last but not least if everything goes according to my plan, there is only one chapter left!^^


	9. Epilogue part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is killing me… I am sorry but for my own convenience I had to split the last chapter again because it simply has gotten too long… But don’t be afraid. I will upload the very last part (this time it is truly the last part) this night (European time) or tomorrow, because it is already written I just want to read through it one last time. Believe me I am going to be so glad, when this story is finally done and fully uploaded. Don’t get me wrong I really enjoyed writing it but I hate that it has gotten so out of hand since originally I just wanted it to be a one-shot. Well, obviously I failed… and it really became some kind of a mammoth project. Now I am glad that I can concentrate on other things again like the many unread books I have. The Children of Húrin is next! Yeah!
> 
> I apologize for some of the scenes, because I think you are going to notice that I didn’t have much fun writing some of them… but they needed to be done for the story’s sake.
> 
> So, please enjoy the second to the last chapter which is mostly Thranduil centered.
> 
> Did anyone notice that the epilogue is longer than the actual story?! Maybe I should call the epilogue the true story and the original story the prologue… Waaaaaahhh! This story is driving me crazy… -.-

So in the end Galadriel had been right. He hadn't sailed to Valinor when Elrond had asked him and he hadn't sailed to Valinor when his son had asked him. He would sail now, because he had grown tired of this land. He longed for the countless discussions he had had with the Peredhel, for the silent companionship they had shared so often and for the bantering. Just thinking about the oncoming centuries without any of this saddened his heart, which longed for whatever relationship they had shared. So he had decided, he would sail because he wanted to, because he wanted to see the Peredhel again. And it was his decision alone.

Thranduil guided his white horse through another narrow crevice and around another tight bend, when suddenly the passage ended and he was standing on a small edge overlooking the valley in the middle of which lay Imladris, or at least what was left of it. It was obvious that quite a few things had changed since his last visit and presumably since Vilya had lost its power. While the main house was still in very good shape, others weren't. They were deserted and Thranduil assumed that was the reason why no one bothered to renovate them. Imladris had lost most of its inhabitants to the Undying Lands. Some other houses were destroyed by the Bruinen or had been entirely flooded by it. A big part of what had been Imladris had been reclaimed by the river, which was now flowing freely again, since Vilya was gone. Thranduil sighed. What would Elrond say if he could see, what had become of the realm he had created with his own hands, the realm he had protected with his life? Thranduil averted his eyes for what he saw pained him deeply. He led the horse down a stony path deeper into the valley. It didn't take him long to reach the remains of the formerly huge archway marking the entrance. He rode through it and took the direct route to the main building for he assumed his chances to meet someone were highest there. And so it was. He hadn't even halted his horse when someone already came out of the building to welcome him. It was Celeborn who seemed very surprised to see him here.

“Mae govannem, King Thranduil.”, he greeted him politely hiding his surprise very well.

“Mae govannem, Lord Celeborn.”, he bowed slightly to the Elvenlord and then dismounted his horse.

It was then that Celeborn knew that something grave must have happened in the Woodland Realm for the Elvenking had never bowed to him.

“What brings you to Imladris... alone?” Celeborn came to his side.

“A very urgent matter I have to discuss with you and the sons of Elrond.”

Celeborn led Thranduil into the main house where one of the few elves that still lived in Imladris took Thranduil’s bow and quiver as well as his sword.

“Follow me, they are both in the library.”

Thranduil did as he was told and followed Celeborn to the library, all the while taking in all the familiar sights. Everything bore the Peredhel’s signature. It pained his heart, so that eventually he had to avert his eyes. It was too much to bear. So instead he focused on Celeborn who was walking in front of him and whose looks differed so much from Elrond. When they finally reached the library he saw Elrond’s sons sitting around a table, both reading a book.

“Elladan, Elrohir, we have a guest.”

Both looked up upon hearing their grandfather’s voice. And when they behold who their guest was they got to their feet and bowed.

“King Thranduil.”, they said in unison and Thranduil was again stunned by their resembling features, features that painfully reminded him of their father.

He had to avert his eyes again, but not before he acknowledged them with a slight bow.

“There is no king present in this room.”, he finally said. “I abdicated.”

He looked at them, wanting to see their reaction. Surprise was what he saw in the eyes of Elrond’s sons. In Celeborn’s eyes he saw understanding.

“I abdicated because I decided to sail. And I decided to pay you a visit to see if by any chance you were also thinking about sailing soon.”

 

###

 

Thranduil was leaning on the balustrade of one of the balconies of the main house, where to he had retreated to give Celeborn and his grandsons some time to debate. He was looking over the vast valley and involuntarily his mind began to compare the valley of today with the valley as it had been the last time he had been here, when Elrond had still been in Middle-earth, when Vilya had still had all its power. When this valley had still been a flourishing Elven realm. And when Elrond had still been near whenever he had needed him. Thranduil knew he couldn’t blame him for leaving Middle-earth. Elrond had lost much of his strength after the War of the Ring, after Vilya had lost its power, when being a ringbearer had finally caught up with him and yet it had hurt him deeply, when Elrond had left. But Elrond had done what had been necessary and now he would do what was necessary.

“So what has changed?”

Thranduil jerked out of his thoughts and turned around. Celeborn was standing in front of him, smiling.

“Well, the Bruinen has reclaimed quite a big part of the valley.”

“You know that I wasn’t asking about the valley.”

“I know, but it was worth a try.”

Celeborn laughed and with a few steps he was standing next to Thranduil and looked over the valley, like Thranduil had done only a few moments before. The smile disappeared from his face.

“I am tired, so tired of watching Elven realms falling into ruin.”, he finally said after some minutes had passed without anyone saying a word.

Thranduil looked at the former Lord of the Galadhrim.

“And yet you stayed here instead of sailing after the War of the Ring.”

Celeborn sighed.

“Yes indeed. It hadn’t been an easy decision, leaving my wife, postponing seeing my daughter. But I wasn’t ready then. And I couldn’t sail, not without my grandsons. Neither Elrond nor Galadriel had any strength left to stay any longer, to wait for them till they were ready to finally accompany them to Valinor. And neither one of us could bear losing another child or grandchild, so I stayed to protect them and to bring them safely to Valinor.”

“So you are ready now? To leave Middle-earth?”

Celeborn turned to look at him.

“Yes, we are ready. We will accompany you.”

Thranduil looked at him in surprise for in his heart he had doubted that they would even consider sailing. Thus he couldn’t prevent his heart from leaping for joy in his chest.

“When?”, he tried not to sound too enthusiastic.

“As soon as we have settled all that is necessary. Maybe a week, maybe less.”

Thranduil nodded. It was sooner than he had expected. And yet it couldn’t be soon enough.

“So tell me, what has changed, Thranduil Oropherion?”

Celeborn looked him dead in the eyes and Thranduil held his gaze, but only for a while, then he turned away and looked over the valley again, where so many things had been shaped by Elrond’s own two hands.

“I have been changed.”

Like that valley had been changed after Elrond’s arrival but then had fallen into ruin after his departure.

“I found that a good friend is more valuable than a kingdom or even pride.”

Since he left I again feel like being stuck in an endless war with myself, he thought but didn’t dare to speak it out loud. He couldn’t tell Elrond’s father-in-law that after Elrond’s departure he had lost who he was, that after Elrond’s departure his heart had been empty, that all the years he had stayed behind in Middle-earth were time spent in vain, were wasted years. He couldn’t tell Celeborn that for him the war was not over, even though for Middle-earth it had ended five hundred years ago. For him sailing to Valinor would be the end’s beginning, for better or worse.

 

###

 

Celeborn had spoken true words. In less than a week they were able to leave Imladris for the Grey Havens of Mithlond. The journey was uneventful and so they arrived sooner than expected, but with Círdan gone, the Grey Havens had fallen into ruin like the other Elven realms of Middle-earth and it only occurred to Thranduil now that the Woodland Realm would be the only Elven realm that would persist, even though there had been times he had doubted that it would survive Sauron’s reign. And now the only Elven realm that had never been under the protection of any Ring of Power was the only one that would live through the Fourth Age. It made him proud, proud of his people, who had stood by his side through bad and worse.

He watched the empty houses as they rode past. They spoke of a long gone past of greatness and splendor. So much had changed since his last visit to Lindon. He had still been young then, an elfling, unknowing and carefree and with a soul devoid of any darkness. Nothing was left of this elfling. This elfling had been lost forever a long time ago burned away by a dragon’s fire. And then he saw it… the sea. They had reached their destination. And when they reached its shore he halted his horse. There it was, the sea that was separating him from Elrond, the sea that lay between him and his son, vast and endless. He had never been very fond of the sea. He had always preferred the forest and he had never understood how any elf could follow its call. He like so many of his own people had never heard the sea calling to him and he knew that neither had Celeborn. And yet now they were here, ready to set sail, ready to leave Middle-earth behind. He sighed. In a few days time… He averted his eyes and looked for his traveling companions. He saw them not far away. They had dismounted in front of large building. He led his horse to them and reached them just as Celeborn opened the big gates made of wood. It was dark inside the building and stirred up dust further reduced visibility but when Thranduil took a closer look into the building t he saw piles of planks and a few smaller boats. It must have been Círdan’s dockyard.

“Círdan’s dockyard.”, Elladan uttered.

“We might use one of these!” Elrohir went past his grandfather and soon disappeared between the boats.

“They are seaworthy!”, he called from somewhere in the building. “But they might need some smaller repairs!”

“Very well!”, Celeborn answered and then turned to Thranduil and smiled. “Just as I had hoped!”

 

###

 

Elrond was leaning on one of the columns of the archway leading onto one of the balconies overlooking the gardens. His original plan had been to take a walk in the gardens but when he had set foot on the balcony and discovered the two persons down in the garden below he had come to a halt and instead was now watching them from afar, not wanting to be seen and not wanting to disturb them. And yet he couldn’t just leave them alone. He couldn’t avert his eyes. So he had spent a long while watching Celebrian and Ereinion chatting and holding hands. He had known they were close, but he hadn’t known how close. And yet he couldn’t complain. He had ended their relationship. He had set Celebrian free and she had told him that she would move on but he hadn’t thought her to move on so quickly. It hurt. At least he had waited three thousand years before moving on. He swallowed trying to not let it too close to his heart.

“Now only we two are left so it seems.”

The sudden voice made him jump. He turned his face to see Galadriel standing next to him. She was also watching the couple in the gardens.

“I am afraid I don’t understand.”

She smiled at him this all knowing smile of hers.

“The only ones in this house who are tragically alone.”

Elrond averted his eyes and returned his gaze to Celebrian and Ereinion.

Celebrian was laughing about something Ereinion had said.

“I didn’t know he had any feelings for her.”

He was wondering if Ereinion had already harbored any feelings for Celebrian then in Middle-earth or if this was a rather recent development. But then it didn’t really matter, did it? If Ereinion had already had these feelings in Middle-earth then he had never acted on them. And if this hadn’t been the case now his own heart belonged to someone else. So there was nothing to say against their developing relationship.

“I know I should be happy for them but I have no happiness left in me, not for me, not for them. And each day's ending is the proof of time killing all the faith I have left in me.”

“I know. I know these feelings very well myself.”

He now fully turned to her and saw that her smile was gone.

“My husband’s and my ways might have parted again and again over the past millennia but I will never get used to it, to the waiting, to the agonizing uncertainty of ever seeing him again alive and well.”

She looked him dead in the eyes.

“But I know if all is lost, hope remains.”

Elrond sighed.

“I am so tired of hoping. All my life I had to rely on hope. Hoping my brother and I would survive the kinslaying at the Havens at Sirion, hoping to see my father and my mother again, hoping that Maedhros and Maglor would spare our lives, hoping that both of them would survive and that I would see them again, hoping that Elros would chose the life of the Eldar, hoping that he would revoke his decision, hoping he would live just a little bit longer, hoping I would survive the war against Sauron, hoping Gil-galad wouldn’t die in my arms, hoping Isildur would listen to me, hoping against hope that the One Ring was lost forever, hoping that Sauron wouldn’t return, hoping that we would find Celebrian in time, hoping she would not die on me, hoping that Arwen wouldn’t make the same choice as Elros, hoping that the One Ring would be destroyed, hoping that my sons would come with me, hoping that Thranduil would come with me, hoping that Thranduil finally loses his damnable strength and pride, hoping and hoping. I am so sick of hoping. I want certainty for once in my life. Is this too much to ask for?”

“You know it is. There are too many paths that can be taken in life. The future is open wide beyond believing. There can be no certainty, thus we can only fall back on hope as unsatisfactory as it might be for us. We both know very well that there are things even the mighty and powerful have no control over. Here in Valinor our fate is to wait and to hope. Everything comes with a price and so do the Undying Lands.”

 

###

 

Thranduil drove another nail into the hard wood with his hammer. The sun was standing high in the sky and burned down on them mercilessly. Drops of his sweat were running down his cheeks and dropping onto his hands. Elladan appeared at his side and dropped another pile of planks he had just shortened to the right length on the ground next to him.

“By Eru, it is so hot.”, he exclaimed, involuntarily drawing the attention of all to himself and then removed his tunic. Only the blink of a second later his undergarments followed, leaving him in only his pants and boots. He stretched and sighed in contentment. Thranduil looked at the flawless skin of the young elf’s upper part of the body, skin that was only disturbed by one rather short scar on Elladan’s right chest, most likely caused by a sword. Thranduil averted his gaze. He couldn’t bear to look at him any longer.

“That is so much better.”, Elladan added.

“Splendid idea, brother!”, Elrohir said from the deck of the boat, where he had been working together with Celeborn.

He followed his brother’s example, removed his tunic and undergarments and threw it atop of his brother’s clothing. Thranduil slowly raised his gaze to Elrohir. And just like his brother his skin was nearly perfect, marred only by two small scars shaped like dots on his right shoulders, obviously caused by two arrows. Thranduil felt the bile rising in his throat, while he unconsciously grabbed his own left shoulder. When he became aware of this action of his, he dropped his hand immediately, being angry at himself for losing control over his own body even for that blink of a second. Out of the corner of his eye he registered that Celeborn also followed suit and removed his tunics and undergarments.

“It really is much better.”

And the sight Celeborn presented was a sight Thranduil knew just too well. The body of the former Lord of Lothlórien was covered with battle scars, relicts of the numerous past battles he had fought in, caused by the weapons used by evil, used by Morgoth, Sauron and their spawn. The only weapons causing wounds that even elves had trouble to properly recover from. The only weapons that left scars on the flawless skin of the Eldar. And thus they presented a perfect way to identify those who had been so lucky to be born after the great wars, those who had been lucky enough to never witness the madness of those battlefields, those young elves like Elladan and Elrohir, who would never know what black despair felt like and what it meant to live with it burned into your memory, if you had been unlucky enough to survive those battles. He envied them because they would never know this black despair that made you wish for your own death, that made you curse the lack of fighting skills of the enemy archer whose arrow had just missed your heart, of the enemy swordsman whose blade had just missed your neck. He averted his eyes, took another nail and drove it into the hard wood with one fierce stroke. Celeborn might be comfortable showing his scars or more likely his grandsons already knew them so he was comfortable showing them in front of them, but he himself wasn’t. They told too much about him, about his past and about his mental constitution. So he endured the sweat that ran down his forehead and disturbed his field of vision. He had endured far worse.

 

###

 

Thranduil kneeled on one of the piers and splashed some of the cool seawater into his face. It felt good and cooled his skin at least for a short moment. Suddenly he heard someone approaching and since he knew his travel companions very well by now he knew by the walk of the person, who was approaching that it must be Celeborn. The former Lord of the Galadhrim stopped right next to him and he waited patiently for Celeborn to start talking for it was obvious that he had come to him with a purpose.

“You don’t have to hide from them.”

Thranduil again splashed some water into his face. The salt burnt in his eyes for a few seconds and he had to blink a few times before his vision returned to normal.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He dried his face with the hem of his tunic and got to his feet. Celeborn was looking at the horizon and for a short while it seemed like his mind was far away, most likely it was with his wife on the other side of the Sundering Seas. And Thranduil followed Celeborn’s gaze. Somewhere in the distance Elrond now lived. Eventually Celeborn turned his head to look at Thranduil.

“They know the wounds inflicted by war and battle. They might not have fought in the War of Wrath or in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men but they have fought against Sauron’s spawn not only during the War of the Ring. And throughout their lives they have seen numerous injuries during the battles they have fought or while helping their father tending the injured in Imladris. And they have seen their father’s body and mine. They know what we went through. So you don’t have to hide your body.”

Thranduil sighed.

“They might know the historical facts but they don’t _know_ what we went through.”

“And I am relieved beyond words that they never will know. I would never wish this experience on anyone.”

“I envy them.”

Neither of them said another word and together they stood side by side looking over the vast sea.

 

###

 

While lying in his sleeping bag Thranduil listened to the quiet and shallow breathing of Elladan and Celeborn, who were already fast asleep but like so often he himself was wide awake, like Elrohir who was keeping watch. Middle-earth might be free of Sauron and his spawn but old habits die hard. He concentrated on the constellations he could see shining through the tree tops, in order to ease his agitated mind. He knew them well, had often studied them and now that the boat was nearly fully repaired it had occurred to him that there might only be few days left to watch the stars that had accompanied him throughout his whole life here in Middle-earth. He didn’t know if he would be able to see these exact constellations in Valinor… like so many things he didn’t know about this far away land, like he didn’t know if Elrond was truly waiting for him or if he had forgotten his friend now that he had been reunited with his wife… He quickly pushed that last thought away and focused on the constellations again, recalling the name of each star he knew, when suddenly clouds began to appear. First they only partially blocked his view but soon the whole sky was hidden by a thick layer of heavy clouds. A cold raindrop hit him directly in his eye causing a short but sharp pain. He squinted his eyes, while he felt more and more raindrops hitting his face.

“My prince! Quick! Please wake up!”

Thranduil opened his eyes in confusion, looking into the eyes of one of his father’s guards.

“Please, Prince Thranduil! Hurry! Your father…”

Thranduil sat up and tried to remember where he was. He felt kind of disoriented and when he scanned his surroundings he found himself in a small tent with this guard bent over him. Raindrops were hitting the tarpaulin. Obviously it was raining again, like it had so many days before.

“Please, Prince Thranduil! Your father… he is leaving the camp with the intention of attacking Sauron!”

That got his attention and for the first time he really looked at the guard. He looked really worried and frightened.

“What?!”

Thranduil stumbled to his feet, searching frantically for his bow and quiver and his twin swords and when he had finally found them and had fastened the quiver on his back he ran out of the tent, the guard hot on his heels. Cold rain hit him and small drops of water ran down his neck and disappeared beneath his armor, slowly wetting his undergarments. The light of day told him that it must be early afternoon.

“Gil-galad ordered him to wait till tomorrow morning for the combined assault. What is he thinking?!”, he muttered angrily while unfastening the reins of his horse from a post.

When he mounted his horse he saw that the camp was deserted except for a few warriors but he could still see the army in the near distance. He cursed and urged his horse on, leaving the guard behind. When he had reached the army he led his horse through the warriors until he finally reached his father.

“Father!”

He brought his horse next to his father’s.

“Father, what are you doing? Gil-galad ordered a combined attack tomorrow morning.”

Oropher turned his face to look at him. He looked him over and then into his eyes.

“He is not my king! He will sacrifice our men because they are less worthy to him than his precious Noldorin elves. Other elves like you or our kin are of no worth to them. They have proven this quite a few times.”

His father looked him dead in the eyes.

“Mark my words, son. I am my own king! I won’t follow a Noldo, because as soon as there is the chance he will stab you in the back.”

Thranduil swallowed. He knew what his father was hinting at. His father had often told him the stories of the past. The Noldor could not to be trusted… never.

“I understand, father.”

His father smiled.

“I knew you would.”

And yet when his father averted his eyes the bad feeling Thranduil had regarding his father’s plan wouldn’t go away. And it stayed with him during the battle.

He saw the flying arrow before it hit its target, he saw it and in this very moment his brain already knew what future lay before him caused by this well aimed single arrow. _He_ saw the arrow but the person that counted didn’t. The person that counted was fighting off another orc. And when his father landed the fatal blow to the orc’s head he offered his vulnerable chest to the arrow, as though the archer had anticipated exactly this last move. And the arrow mercilessly took the offered chest and hit the King of Greenwood the Great in his chest, piercing his heart. Thranduil’s heart missed a beat. He knew the hit must have been fatal when the sword fell from his father’s hand. His father’s gaze dropped to the shaft that was stuck in his chest while his hand slowly reached for it as though he couldn’t believe that he had really been hit. Then when realization hit him he raised his gaze again and slowly turned and their gazes locked. Thranduil would never forget the shock and utter fear he saw in his father’s eyes… his father, who had never been afraid of anything. Then his father’s legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. No! No! NO! He wasn’t ready… not yet! Thranduil surged forward, fighting his way through the numerous orcs to get to his father as quickly as possible all the while fighting down all the fears that were now mercilessly surfacing in his mind. He wasn’t ready to become king! And he definitely wasn’t ready to lose his father.

“Father!”

He easily felled the last orc that stood between him and his father, rushed to his father’s side and dropped to his knees, fully expecting that life had already left his father. But his father turned his head to look at him and Thranduil felt relief washing over him. Maybe there was hope.

“Father…”

He carefully touched his father, afraid to cause him further pain.

“Thranduil… my son…”

“Sh, father, save your strength.”

He looked at the shaft buried in his father’s chest. He swallowed hard. There was no chance that the arrow had missed his father’s heart. And thus he knew that there was no chance that his father would live through it. He had to blink a few times, trying not to shed any tears in front of his dying father. And yet, even though he knew it would be in vain, he couldn’t just sit here and wait for his father’s death.

“I…"

He was about to touch his father’s shoulders, thinking about trying to help him getting up but his father grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t…”

He looked into his father’s eyes.

“Thranduil… there was a day… I… I thought I had lost you… I was afraid of… losing you… Now I am glad… that I am allowed to go before you… I couldn’t bear to… lose you. But I know you are strong enough… strong enough to overcome my death.”

“Father please…”

“You are everything I could ever… wish for. You are going to… be a very good king…”

Thranduil shook his head. He didn’t want to become king… not now, not like this!

“I have to tell… you one more thing…”

His father took a deep rattling breath.

“We will not meet again…”

Thranduil didn’t understand.

“What… what do you mean?”

“I won’t ever leave the Halls of Mandos… I can’t bear to live… under… under…”

A coughing fit shook his father and all he could do was watch as his father slowly died.

“Please, father, stop.”, Thranduil begged, seeing how much strength it cost his father to speak.

“Elvenking!”

Thranduil’s head jerked up as the exclamation reached his ears. And there not far away a tall orc came towards him and his father, easily parting the fighting crowd that separated them from each other. The orc was flanked by two smaller orcs. Thranduil didn’t lose any time but stumbled to his feet, grabbing his swords and positioned himself in front of his father, awaiting their arrival. He would protect his father no matter what the cost!

“Thrand –“

He didn’t even hear his father finishing his name, when something hit his head from behind and he fell into darkness. When he regained consciousness he knew immediately where he was and what had happened prior to him being knocked out. He tried to get to his feet, even before he had opened his eyes, but a sudden sharp pain in his arms, caused by rough claw like hands, forced him back down on his knees and when he opened his eyes he saw the tall orc standing in front of him, grinning like a madman. But worst of all wasn’t his pain but the fact that the tall orc had grabbed his father’s hair and had pulled him into a kneeling position. His father was barely able to hold himself upright, only the orc’s grip on his hair prevented him from falling back to the ground. Rage rose in his chest and Thranduil threw himself forward trying to escape the orc that held him down, but he was forcefully pulled backwards, pain erupting in his shoulders that brought tears to his eyes.

“A fierce protector you have there.”, the orc said to his father.

His father didn’t reply.

“Leave him!”, Thranduil hissed through his gritted teeth.

The orc looked at him, then back at his father and again at him. Then he grinned.

“He looks just like you.”, he told the king. “Blonde like the king himself among all those dark haired clumsy Wood Elves. Your spawn I guess, Elvenking.”, he spat the last word.

Then he looked again at Thranduil.

“A little prince you are then.”

He grinned, obviously pleased with his deduction.

“My axe!”, he then barked and held open his free hand.

One of the smaller orcs quickly came to his side and handed him a big jagged axe.

“I see you have failed to teach your spawn some proper manners. But don’t worry I will do that for you. I will teach him that orcs don’t like to take orders from scum like you!”

He raised the hand that was holding Oropher by his hair and Thranduil heard his father grunt in pain. Thranduil fought against the hands holding him down, restraining him. The jagged axe was raised and Thranduil struggled with all his might against the orc that held him down. And when the axe went down he desperately threw himself against the restraining hands, which only tightened their grip more and he felt the bones in his left arm snap as the axe drove through his father’s neck, severing his head from his body, as a splash of his father’s blood hit his face. But he didn’t feel any pain, he felt nothing at all only emptiness, as he watched his father’s head fall to the ground from where the tall orc picked it up only to let it dangle in front of Thranduil’s face.

“You should be thankful, young prince. By freeing his head from his miserable shoulders I ended his pain.”

Thranduil barely registered what the orc had said. His gaze was locked with his father’s gaze as life slowly left them. Then suddenly the head was whisked away, out of his field of vision and the hands that had held him down were removed but he didn’t… he couldn’t move. He could only stare.

“I will let you live because I saw you fight, you and your father. And I still want to have some fun in this war, fun I won’t have if there are only these clumsy Wood Elves to fight against.”

And with that the orc and his companions turned away, taking his father’s head with them and still he could just stare. Only little by little did he realize that his father was gone forever and it had been his fault. And it was his fault that the enemy was now walking away with his father’s head.

He looked one last time at his father’s beheaded body, dark red blood was still trickling out of the stump where once had been his father’s head. He then averted his eyes and instead focused on the retreating back of the tall orc. With a scream he got to his feet and surged forward, giving the desperation he felt within him room to unfold. While running after the tall orc he grabbed a spear that still stuck in a dead orc who was lying on his way. Armed orcs came toward him, ready to strike, to kill him. Thranduil drove the spear into the first orc when the orc had raised his mace to strike a blow, leaving his chest wide open. He didn’t slow down but let go of the spear, jumped on the orc’s broad chest, thus using his momentum to fell the orc and catapulted himself off the orc, grabbing the spear and taking it with him, thus pulling it out of the dying orc. He landed on the muddy ground without stumbling and without having to stop, not even for one second. All the while he didn’t lose sight of the tall orc ahead of him. Another orc entered his field of vision, till too far away to land a blow with his axe but not too far away for his spear. Thranduil raised the spear from his right side to the left side above his head bringing his spear to the axe and knocking it out of his opponent’s hand and used his momentum to spin around taking the spear with him and beheading the orc with a precise cut after completing a full circle. A third orc suddenly appeared from the left, where his field of vision was limited and only a quick and forceful thrust driving the spear deep into the orc’s chest saved him from a serious blow. The orc looked at him his face distorted by rage and hate. Suddenly the orc roared, droplets of saliva hitting Thranduil’s face. He turned his face away in disgust, when suddenly the spear in his hands was pulled away from him and he with it. He barely saw that the orc had pushed the spear through his body, bringing him closer to the orc, when the orc’s mace hit him in the head. The blow knocked him to the ground but his survival instincts kicked in immediately and he rolled to the side bringing himself out of immediate danger. The pain in his head was bearable, he had suffered much greater pain in his head and yet he felt dizzy. He tried to get to his feet pushing himself off with his arms, when pain exploded in his left arm. He fell back to his knees, holding his broken arm. He hadn’t even remembered it had been broken… Small droplets of blood fell on his arm. Obviously the hit to his head had caused an open wound. But he had no time to think about it for he heard footsteps behind him. He spun around but it was too late. It was the orc from before. A claw like hand closed around his throat and he was pulled to his feet. Thranduil reached for one of the two small throwing knives on his back and stabbed the orc in the neck. The orc didn’t blink instead he increased the pressure on Thranduil’s throat and Thranduil knew the orc was trying to suffocate him. With a quick move he twisted the knife still stuck in the orc’s neck and finally he was greeted with a gush of blood and a death rattle before the orc’s loosened his grip on his throat and sank to the ground dying. Thranduil landed on his feet and retrieved the small knife before turning around and looking for the tall orc. He was nowhere to be seen. Thranduil felt panic rising in his chest as he spun around trying to orientate himself. But there was nothing he recognized, no landmark that looked familiar. He run a few steps looking for something familiar, something that would help him to reconstruct where to the tall orc had wandered off. But there was nothing. He tried another direction, running onto a small hill overlooking the battlefield, all the while evading single orcs. He had no time for them right now. He reached the top of the hill and stopped dead in his tracks, when he saw no sign of the tall orc, when he finally realized he had failed, he had lost them and with them his father’s head, lost forever to the enemy. So here he was standing in the middle of a muddy battlefield. He, the heir to the throne of the Woodland Realm, who had been incapable of protecting his king, his own father. Incapable… He was incapable… Dizzy… He felt dizzy and suddenly his legs gave out and he fell to his knees. The world was spinning and bile rose in his throat. He had to close his eyes. It was too much.

“Thranduil!”

His men? Unfortunately they were too late.

“They have his head.”, he whispered, unable to talk any louder.

“What did he say? Whose head?”, he heard another voice ask.

“Stay back.”, the first voice said, not answering the question.

“They killed him. They took his head. I… I failed.”

“Thranduil, open your eyes. Please.” It was the first voice again but now it seemed much closer.

“They…” A hand was put on his shoulder. “… have his head.”

“I know… Open your eyes.”

It was a whispered order, but an order none the less. And he couldn’t disobey the authority that had transpired through the voice. So he opened his eyes. Dark blue eyes were staring into his light blue ones. Then he noticed the silver hair. None of his men had silver hair. Something was wrong. Even the ground didn’t feel right. It was wet but not muddy. No, it was a typical forest floor covered with fir needles. This wasn’t Dagorlad. He averted his eyes off the silver haired elf in front of him and took a look around. And indeed he was kneeling in a forest and a few meters away two dark haired elves were standing and looking at him. They were panting and both of them were wielding a sword. They were looking like… Elrond. Elladan and Elrohir! Elrond’s twin sons with whom he had journeyed to the Grey Havens in order to sail to the West. And when he finally saw the numerous gashes on the trees standing next to them and became aware of the sword in his right hand it dawned on him. He let his sword drop to the ground and looked at Celeborn who was still kneeling in front of him and who still had his hand on his shoulder.

“Celeborn… I… I lost myself… I…”

He buried his head in his hands unable to face the other elves.

“It’s okay. Elrohir saw you running into the forest with your sword. We followed you, while you were fighting your way through the forest. We weren’t in any danger and neither were you, we made sure of that.”

But Thranduil shook his head.

“You don’t understand! I really lost myself again!”, Thranduil nearly screamed, desperation getting the better of him.

And for a while there was only silence. Nobody dared to say anything, while Thranduil wished he would just disappear, right here, right now.

“One night…”, Elrohir suddenly said. “… I found father in the healing quarters. He was frantically trying to cut a non-existent arrow out of his left arm. Mother later told me that during the Last Alliance he had been hit by an arrow in exactly this spot.”

Thranduil raised his head in disbelieve.

“I once nearly killed Galadriel.”, Celeborn said tonelessly.

“You nearly killed our grandmother?!”, the twins exclaimed in perfect unison.

But Celeborn didn’t turn to look at them instead he kept his gaze locked with Thranduil’s.

“Yes, when we were camping in the forest. It was her turn to keep watch and I was sleeping, dreaming of past battles like I do so often, when I suddenly heard footsteps close to my head. Instantly I was reminded of the one time during the Last Alliance when an army of orcs had tried to raid our camp during the night. I jumped to my feet, a knife in my hand and attacked whoever it was standing so close to me. It was her. She had just ventured closer to the fire.”

“But you recognized her before actually hurting her?”, Elladan asked, but Celeborn shook his head.

“Galadriel might not have fought for quite a while then but her reflexes were still as quick as the reflexes of a good warrior. She blinded me with the light of Nenya before I had the chance to hurt her. The horrible pain caused by its glare forced me to my knees and brought me back to reality. This was the first and only time I was glad that she actually was the keeper of a Ring of Power.”

It was only then that he removed his hand from Thranduil’s shoulder.

“Thranduil, we all have our demons following us during night and day. You are not alone.”

 

###

 

It was on the next day that Thranduil decided he could trust his traveling companions. And it was then, while they repaired the mast, while the sun burned down on them, that he removed his tunic and undergarments. And the fact that neither of them asked him about the ample burn scars on his left shoulder he had indirectly obtained when his face had been directly hit by the dragon’s fire or about the star shaped scar overlapping a part of the burn scars, where a Mordor shaft had hit him during the Battle of Dagorlad and which he himself had had to pull out along with parts of his own flesh because no one had been near to help him or about the numerous other scars that covered his body, told him he had made the right decision. He could trust them.

And it was on this day that they finally finished the ship and instead of waiting for the next day they decided to free their horses, to launch the boat and to load the boat with their belongings and supplies. And before the sun set Celeborn removed the rope, their last connection to Middle-earth, from the bollard and thus they set sail guided by Eärendil and left Middle-earth behind. And Celeborn and Thranduil were the only ones watching Middle-earth disappear over the horizon.

 

###

 

_Thranduil,_

_Please tell me why I must fall for the strong one? Why couldn’t you be a weak and fearful elf taking flight whenever danger might arise? Why must you be the strong elf who never backs down? Why must you be the proud elf, the proud king? But I guess if you weren’t that strong and proud elf I wouldn’t have fallen for you. Then I wouldn’t be sitting here now contemplating… no… quarreling with my fate, cursing your character that makes you who you are, someone special to me. That character of yours that turned Valinor into a dark paradise for me._

_All my suffering should have ended here but now my suffering seems to be worse than it has been in Middle-earth. I curse you and your unique character and I hate myself more and more for doing so. And every time I close my eyes I see your face. It won’t leave my head. It is haunting me. I see you in my sleep. I feel you in my dreams and often I don’t even want to wake up because there will be no ‘you’ here in this dark paradise, only in my dreams. Unfortunately there is no remedy for memory and so I can’t even move on even though you are not here._

 

###

 

It was the day that they passed Númenor or at least where it could have been found until its downfall. They had assembled on deck and Celeborn recounted the story of the rise and fall of Númenor. And Thranduil’s heart went out to Elrond when Celeborn retold the story of the first king of Númenor, Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elladan’s and Elrohir’s uncle, Elrond’s own twin brother who had preferred to be counted among men rather than elves. And now after spending some time in Elladan’s and Elrohir’s company and actually seeing how close both of them were, closer than any other pair of siblings he had ever seen, he couldn’t even imagine what it had meant for Elrond to be separated from his brother by death. Deep down in his heart he wondered how anyone could ever leave Elrond. And he shook his head in utter disbelieve for he would never understand how anyone could choose the Fate of Men. And he was glad beyond measure that Elrond had chosen to be counted among elves, because otherwise they would have never met, a thought that saddened his heart.

“Have you ever been to Númenor?”, Elrohir suddenly asked his grandfather and jerked Thranduil out of his own thoughts.

“No, I haven’t. It was too close to Valinor. I was afraid that I would never be able to return to Middle-earth again, if I ever went there.”

He laughed.

“And you, Thranduil?”, Elladan asked.

Again Thranduil shook his head but this time as a response to Elladan’s question.

“No, I was never fond of the sea and as you can see it is quite a long way from Middle-earth.”

“But your father… He was there during the glorious days of Númenor visiting his brother once or twice. But I am sure he never speaks of it because it causes him too much pain.”

“Yes, he never speaks of it…”

 

###

 

Celeborn and his grandsons had long gone below decks to sleep but Thranduil had remained on deck to watch the stars. He knew that it wasn’t long till Valinor anymore now that they had passed Númenor and so this might be his last chance to see the sky as he knew it. Suddenly a shooting star appeared and crossed his line of vision, describing a perfect straight line like a well shot arrow.

He saw the flying arrow before it hit its target. _He_ saw the arrow but the person that counted didn’t. The person that counted was fighting off another orc. And when the person who counted landed the fatal blow to the orc’s head he offered his vulnerable chest to the arrow, as though the archer had anticipated exactly this last move. And the arrow mercilessly took the offered chest and hit the herald of Gil-galad in his chest piercing his heart.

“Elrond!”

Thranduil’s heart missed a beat. He knew the hit must have been fatal when the sword fell from Elrond’s hand. Elrond’s gaze dropped to the shaft that was stuck in his chest while his hand slowly reached for it as though he couldn’t believe that he had really been hit. Then when realization hit him he raised his gaze again and slowly turned and their gazes locked. Then his Elrond’s legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. No! No! NO! Not Elrond! Not now! Thranduil surged forward, fighting his way through the numerous orcs to get to Elrond as quickly as possible all the while fighting down all the fears that were now mercilessly surfacing in his mind. He wasn’t ready to let Elrond go! He wasn’t ready to lose Elrond.

“Elrond!”

He easily felled the last orc that stood between him and Elrond, rushed to his side and dropped to his knees, fully expecting that life had already left Elrond. But Elrond turned his head to look at him and Thranduil felt relief washing over him. Maybe there was hope. “Elrond…”

He carefully touched Elrond, afraid to cause him further pain.

“Thranduil… “

“Sh, Elrond, save your strength.”

He looked at the shaft buried in Elrond’s chest. And then he realized he had seen this before but then it hadn’t been Elrond on the receiving end of that very arrow. He looked around. He was at Dagorlad, the very spot where he had lost his father, where his dislike for Gil-galad and his herald had been born. And yet now he was kneeling next to this very herald and his impending death broke his heart. He knew this was not how it had happened! Then during the Last Alliance he would have never kneeled next to Elrond and he never would have felt such despair because of a dying Noldorin herald, who was dying in the very same manner as his father had. This was just wrong on so many levels.

“Thranduil…”

He looked down at the dying Elrond. Elrond never died at Dagorlad. He like himself had been among the unfortunates who had survived the horrors of Sauron’s battlefields. So this couldn’t be real. This wasn’t real! He got to his feet looking down at Elrond’s chest, still rising and falling.

“Thranduil, please…”

“Stop it!”, Thranduil shouted at Elrond.

“This is not real! This is not how it happened! This is not what happened! This is just my mind playing tricks on me!”

“Then fight it!” Elrond got to his feet and looked at him. “Fight it!”

Thranduil reached out his hand, trying to touch Elrond but not really daring to. Gone was the arrow and gone was the armor. He was standing there in front of him like he remembered him, wearing a dark blue tunic and crowned with a golden diadem, like he had been five hundred years ago in Imladris. Then suddenly Elrond grabbed his shoulders.

“You know this is not real! Fight it! I know you can.”

“But how?”

Elrond smiled at him.

“You already made the first step. Now open your eyes!”

He wanted to say that they were already open but Elrond stared him dead in the eyes, storm grey meeting ice-blue.

“Open your eyes!”

And so he did.

He was still standing at the railing, his hands clutching the railing as if holding on for dear life. His arms and legs were shaking and he was panting for air. And yet here he was and for the first time he had managed to fight off the madness that had claimed his mind so long ago. For the first time sanity had conquered madness. He fell to his knees, his shaking hands never letting go of the railing. Elrond… I’m scared that you won’t be waiting on the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually forgot to say something about the last chapter when Thranduil (during the dragon fire hallucination with Elrond) feels no pain etc. until Elrond touches him. Maybe some of you thought: “Hey, why is he feeling pain after Elrond touches him? I thought they like each other!” Actually Thranduil feeling the pain after Elrond touches him is an allegory for Thranduil being able to feel again after meeting Elrond… Thranduil is kind of giving up on being a cold and distant king at least towards his son and Elrond and Celeborn and Galadriel and so on. Not towards Saruman of course, that good for nothing ***************************** Istar.^^
> 
> I borrowed some lines from Lana Del Rey’s song “Dark Paradise” in Elrond’s letter to Thranduil and at the end of the scene on the boat when Thranduil is having another of his hallucinations.
> 
> I also borrowed some lines from Trading Yesterday’s song “Shattered” near the end of the last scene in Imladris shortly before Thranduil and the others are leaving and some lines I used for the talk of Elrond and Galadriel, when both of them watched Celebrian and Ereinion.
> 
> I know that I nearly used the exact words of Thranduil’s memory sequence in the forest again later when he had that hallucination about Elrond being hit by that very same arrow. I didn’t do this out of laziness. But when I am writing I see what I am writing like a movie and I imagined that if this would have been a movie the second scene would be exactly the same scene as the first one, the only difference being that Elrond took Oropher’s place. So it’s more a stylistic kind of thing… or so…^^ And since I’m the author your argument is invalid! ;-P
> 
> Eh, about why Thranduil has no title anymore. I thought that since Thranduil actually abdicated he lost his title since the title Elvenking/King of the Woodland Realm was given to his successor and I don’t know if he would be consider a lord after that so I decided to leave him without title to show what Thranduil was willing to sacrifice in order to see Elrond again…^^ because I actually think that being a king was rather important for him at least in this story.  
> All the others actually never really or officially abdicated. They either left for Valinor of their realms vanished so I let them keep their titles. But since I really loved Elrond calling Thranduil Elvenking it was a tough decision.^^
> 
> And why the heck do the fidghting scenes always look so cool in your head and then after writing them they are so horrible... -.-


	10. Epilogue part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be careful I removed the announcement, so Chapter 9 is a real chapter now, in case you didn’t notice. This is Chapter 10 now. So before you read this chapter make sure you read Chapter 9.
> 
> Last chapter!!!! Yeah! So there are some notes at the end but after that there is the surprise scene I promised. So don’t stop reading when you have reached the notes just read ahead. It is a scene after the credits so to say.^^
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my story and thank you for the support and all the kind words! It kept me going!!!!!

“Elrond!”

Elrond put his book down.

“Elrond!”

It was Celebrian calling for him from the corridor and only a few seconds later she burst through the door to his study, panting. He could clearly see her excitement. Her face was flushed and a smile appeared on her face.

“What is it?”, he asked, relieved that obviously nothing grave had happened, rather something good judging by her looks.

“Elrond! A messenger from Tirion just arrived! They have sighted another ship on the horizon!”

He sighed, put the book aside and got to his feet. So many times he had allowed his hope to be raised only for it to be crushed again until he couldn’t bear it any longer, it had just become too painful for him. He had to protect himself. So whenever he heard about another boat on the horizon he denied himself any hope of it carrying either his sons or Thranduil.

“You know my answer.”, he thus told Celebrian.

"You know it might actually happen one day.”, she said, looking disappointedly at him.

“Yes, it might… one day or another…”

 

###

 

Celebrian shielded her eyes with her hands against the bright sun to get a better view of the boat that was now quickly getting closer and closer. And then she saw the two heads crowned with the dark brown hair that was so similar to their father’s and her heart leapt for joy.

“It’s them!”, she exclaimed and turned to her mother, who was standing right next to her, smiling, her gaze also directed to the boat.

“It’s Elladan and Elrohir.”

“Yes, it is them and it is him.”, her mother said without looking at her.

Instead her eyes were fixated on the boat and Celebrian could clearly hear the relief in her mother’s voice. Celebrian looked again at the approaching boat and she saw that a third person now stood at the railing, the silver hair swaying in the wind.

“Father!”

She couldn’t believe it. Finally after so long a time she would see her sons and her father again. Finally she would able to embrace them again, to feel them, to hold them. And then a fourth person appeared, the hair silver with a slight touch of gold. At first she was confused, because she couldn’t recall any person she knew with such a hair color. Could she hope…? And when she heard her mother sigh and uttering a quiet ‘finally’, she knew she could.

“Father.”, she heard Legolas whisper, who was standing behind her, astonishment evident in his voice. And relief washed over her heart, because finally Elrond’s wait would be over.

 

###

 

Thranduil leaned on the railing watching the crowd on the piers. Quite a few people were standing there, waiting for the boat to arrive, waiting for the passengers to finally set foot on the shores of Valinor. But he knew that nobody was waiting for him, except for Legolas maybe. But Legolas was most likely enjoying his newfound carefree life with his friend, the dwarf. And he most likely didn’t expect him to arrive in Valinor, since he had assured him that he would never ever sail. So on this pier, he knew, no one was waiting for him. But he was certain that there were quite a few people waiting for his travel companions and maybe even Elrond would be on the pier desperately waiting for his sons. He swallowed hard. Maybe he would see Elrond in a few moments time and he was afraid. What if Elrond would ignore him? What if Elrond had only eyes for his sons? He knew that he had no claims, he knew there was nothing wrong with Elrond only having eyes for his sons but it would break his heart that he knew too. But now after five hundred years he was finally where his heart had wanted him to be all along.

“She is here.”, he heard Celeborn whisper next to him, relief evident in his voice and Thranduil was sure he was referring to Galadriel whose unique silver-golden hair and her tall statue made it easy to identify her among all the other elves.

“Look, who is standing next to your grandmother.”, he then told his grandsons and it took only the blink of a second before both of them shouted.

“Nana!”

Their posture had totally changed now that they definitely knew that they would see their mother again. He knew they both had tried to reign in their hope of seeing their mother again because there had always been this tiny bit of a doubt that their mother hadn’t managed to recover. He was happy for them that this doubt had obviously been baseless because as far as he could see Lady Celebrian was smiling and nearly as radiant as her mother. She was a beauty. He swallowed hard. And she was Elrond’s wife… And now that they had nearly reached the piers and he had examined the whole crowd his heart sank because the person that counted, the person he had come to see, the person his heart was yearning for wasn’t here. Elrond hadn’t come… He hadn’t been waiting.

They finally docked and while Celeborn threw the end of the robe to a waiting elf, Elladan and Elrohir jumped of the boat and ran to their mother who met them halfway. They fell into each others’ arms and Thranduil had to look away, his heart hurting. He watched Galadriel who was slowly coming towards the boat. Their eyes met and she smiled at him, he inclined his head in response. Then Celeborn jumped of the boat and the Lord and the Lady of the Galadhrim met again for the first time in five hundred years. They looked at each other before Celeborn finally embraced his wife. Galadriel put her hands around her husband and laughed. Thranduil could see that she was relieved beyond words now that she had her husband with her again. Celeborn released her and held her at arm’s length, watching her intently. Then he reached out and laid his hand on her cheek, tenderly caressing her, before he leant in to kiss her.

“Father!”

Thranduil averted his eyes in surprise and let his eyes wander over the pier. He knew this voice too well but he hadn’t believed in meeting Legolas right here, right now. He hadn’t seen him among the ground. But there he was running towards him and it raised his spirits, because he now knew he wouldn’t be alone in this foreign land. He let go of the railing and jumped off the boat, making his first steps in Valinor to meet his son. Legolas fell into his arms and it felt so good to have him back, seeing his son well and healthy and happy. He took a look over his son’s shoulder and saw his son’s appendage… the dwarf, who was scowling and obviously felt very much out of place among the many elves. And even though all this years he had been reluctant to accept the dwarf he had to admit that right here on this pier he could relate. Like the dwarf he himself felt so very much out of place and seeing that he wasn’t alone with his feelings, was very comforting. And when Gimli looked up and their gazes locked Thranduil knew that they understood each other. Both of them were foreigners in a foreign land. But suddenly Legolas released him and held him at arm’s length.

“I knew you would come!”, he said looking into his father’s eyes. “I knew it!”

Thranduil smiled.

“Then you knew more than I did.” Suddenly there was a commotion among the crowd that stood on the pier. Thranduil turned and watched as the crowd parted revealing two tall figures. Thranduil easily recognized the figure standing slightly behind the first one even though he had slightly changed. It was Mithrandir. But the other person… A tall man clad in blue robes, with dark black hair that was crowned with a silver diadem adorned with blue gems… and his eyes… being the lightest blue… nearly white. And he wielded a scepter of sapphire. A murmur went through the crowd and when everyone around him bowed to the two figures Thranduil knew who he was facing. It was Manwë, King of Arda, the Elder King, the reason for his suffering, the person he hated most. And so he was standing here before Manwë, being the only one who didn’t bow to the Lord of the Breath of Arda.

“Father.”, he heard Legolas whisper but it was in vain.

It had been on the battlefield of Dagorlad that he had sworn that he would never bow to any Vala and he wouldn’t falter. Manwë met his gaze and Thranduil nearly lost himself in the depth of his irides, which were so unbelievingly light blue. And it felt like Manwë was looking directly into his very soul, where darkness reigned. Because the darkness might have left Middle-earth but it hadn’t left his heart. And just when he thought he couldn’t stand the piercing glance any longer and was about to avert his eyes it was Manwë who broke the contact. Thranduil felt his heart racing and noticed that he was panting. With a single wave of his hand Manwë allowed the crowd to rise again.

“I am glad that I am finally able to welcome the last of the great Elven rulers of Middle-earth here in Valinor.”, he said, looking at him and Celeborn.

“The Era of the Elves might have come to an end in Middle-earth but so has your suffering.”

The suffering caused by you and the likes of you, Thranduil added in his mind. Manwë turned his face to look at Thranduil as though he had heard Thranduil’s very thought. And he slowly came over to him stopping only when he stood directly in front of Thranduil. He reached out and when Thranduil saw, where Manwë’s hand was headed he felt rage rising in his chest.

How dare he!

And before Manwë could reach his cheek Thranduil grabbed him by his wrist.

“Don’t you dare touching me, Vala!”

He looked Manwë dead in the eyes and surprise was what he saw in them.

“You didn’t help us when we fought the evil that came from your own ranks. You didn’t help us when help was dearly needed. You rather watched from afar, while elf after elf was slaughtered. You didn’t deem it necessary to help then. Now we… I don’t need your help anymore. I don’t need anything from you. I didn’t come to find peace. I came for someone. So go back to your palaces and festivities and leave me alone.”

Thranduil shook his head and then he let go of the illusion that covered the left side of his face. Sounds of astonishment erupted around him but he kept his eyes fixated on the Vala in front of him, who hadn’t blinked an eye. Thranduil pointed to his disfigured cheek.

“This is what was left for us when you decided to leave Middle-earth on its own! I hereby pass on Melkor’s and Sauron’s regards to you.”

And with that he turned away from the Vala walking over to his son and the dwarf.

"Please, take me away from here for I am very tired.”, he said while recreating the illusion to cover his face.

Legolas nodded, looking rather worried at him. But then he turned around and let him through the crowd, while Thranduil barely heard Mithrandir utter a hushed ‘I told you so’ to Manwë.

“King Thranduil!”

He stopped. He hadn’t heard that voice for quite a while. He turned around although he had a bad feeling, which only intensified when he saw her running towards him. He swallowed hard, when she had finally reached him. He didn’t show it but he was afraid of what was to come, of what she had to say to him. Maybe Elrond had shown her his letter. Maybe she knew of what he felt for her husband. And yet she smiled at him, a genuine smile, which irritated him.

“King Thranduil.”, she said again and bowed slightly. “You might not remember me but –“

“Lady Celebrian.”, he interrupted her and acknowledged her with a slight bow of his head.

“I see you have fully recovered.”

He might have met her only a few times but he would never forget her, Celeborn and Galadriel’s pride and joy. Nobody who had ever met her would ever forget her beauty and joyful spirit. And before he could prepare himself she threw her arms around him and embraced him. He was too confused to move, to reciprocate the embrace, an embrace he was sure he didn’t deserve.

“I am so glad that you decided to sail! Thank you so much!”, she said before ending the embrace and averting her eyes in slight embarrassment as though she had just noticed that her action had been kind of inappropriate between a king and a lady who hardly knew each other.

“Please excuse my behavior, King Thranduil. I got carried away.”

He was still too confused to articulate an appropriate reply so instead he corrected her.

“I am no king anymore. I abdicated.” … because I wanted to see Elrond again.

“I see.”, she said and then she nodded. “Let me invite you to Elrond’s house. Come with me and my parents to his house.”

Even though his heart was yearning to see Elrond as soon as possible, Thranduil knew he couldn’t accept this offer. He couldn’t go to Elrond when his family was present, when his long lost sons returned, when Elrond most likely just wanted to enjoy his now nearly complete family. So he shook his head.

“Thank you for your kind offer but I was just leaving with my son.”

She kept smiling.

“So we would meet each other tonight anyway since he is living in Elrond’s house.”

What?! Thranduil looked at her dumfounded before turning to his son who was still waiting nearby. Legolas just smiled at him and shrugged his shoulders.

“We had nowhere to go. Grandfather refused to leave the Halls of Mandos. Lord Elrond offered us to stay in his house.”

Thranduil sighed. Of course, Oropher had refused. He had told him he would do so a long time ago. He turned back to Celebrian.

“I am afraid I still have to decline.”

She looked him dead in the eyes.

“Why?”

Because he has a family, because I am afraid of his reaction, of his rejection.

“I just can’t.”

She didn’t reply but just as he was ready to turn and walk away, she again opened her mouth to speak.

“Please, I beg you. He hasn’t been the same since he came from Middle-earth. He misses you.”

Thranduil let his gaze drop to the ground. It pained him to hear that Elrond wasn’t doing well but at the same time it gave him reason to hope that Elrond had kept his promise and had indeed waited for him all these years.

“So please, Thranduil, come with me to Elrond’s house. He has been waiting for your arrival for five hundred years. And the only reason why he isn’t here today is because after a while he simply couldn’t bear to see more and more boats arriving without you and his sons.”

 

###

 

Thranduil looked at the large house in front of him in utter disbelieve. Although the difference between this house and Imladris could be easily perceived they looked remarkably alike.

“I let it be built for him.”, Celebrian said.

He hadn’t noticed her coming to his side. His mind had been too occupied with the impending reunion with Elrond. He was afraid, he couldn’t deny that much. Not even Celebrian telling him that Elrond had indeed been waiting for him had eased his mind. It meant nothing. Maybe she had misinterpreted Elrond’s behavior. And yet he felt his heart racing in his chest out of anticipation. After so long a time he would finally see Elrond again, finally after five hundred years of loneliness. And then finally they led their horses into the yard and Thranduil noticed Lindir coming towards him. His face lit up when he saw Elladan and Elrohir and then Celeborn but his smile faltered for the blink of a second when Lindir eventually discovered him. But Thranduil wasn’t offended for he knew Lindir’s reaction was owed to the fact that he had quite enjoyed to put Lindir in unease during his stays in Imladris. But there was no bad blood between them.

“Lindir, please tell me, where is Elrond?”, he heard Celebrian say.

“He is in the gardens, my Lady.”

“Well then…” She turned to him. “Thranduil, why don’t you go around the house and tell Lord Elrond that his sons have finally arrived?”

He looked at her unable to say anything while she again only smiled at him. And for a second he wondered if she actually knew how much she resembled her mother. But then he nodded and dismounted handing the reins to Lindir, who bowed to him. But Thranduil didn’t bother, his mind already being elsewhere. And without taking another look back he ventured of to the left of the building. Left was as good as any direction.

 

###

 

When Thranduil turned another corner, he stopped dead in his tracks because he finally beheld what he had missed so dearly for the past five hundred years and his heart leaped for joy in his chest. Elrond was kneeling on the grass in front of a flower bed, having his back to him and just refilled a hole, in which he had planted a small flower, with soil. Thranduil watched him using a gardening trowel to compact the soil slightly. And then he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“You know, Peredhel, you have proven me wrong quite a few times in the past and you keep doing so.”

The gardening trowel fell to the ground and the Peredhel jerked around. And while Thranduil could only smirk, he saw the surprise and utter disbelieve in the storm grey eyes of the Peredhel.

“Thranduil…” Elrond sprang to his feet. “You said you would never set one foot on the shores of Valinor!”

“And yet I am here now, as you said I would.”

A mere second later he found himself wrapped in the Peredhel’s arms, who embraced him with all the strength he could muster. But since it had been such an unforeseen action it took Thranduil a few seconds to realize what was happening until he relaxed into the embrace, until he could succumb to the feeling of warmth that was seeping into his heart slowly filling the emptiness that had reigned there so long. Slowly he put his arms around the Peredhel and lay his head on his shoulder, listening to the Peredhel’s breathing and feeling the rise and fall of his chest, which was soothing his agitated mind. It felt like coming home. Then suddenly Elrond put him at arm’s length looking him all over and Thranduil felt disappointment rise in his chest upon the sudden loss of contact.

“You are here.”, Elrond said quietly and Thranduil just nodded.

“How?”

“I abdicated, so I was free to leave Middle-earth.”

Elrond looked at him in astonishment but then he shook his head, never letting go of Thranduil’s arms.

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I asked your father-in-law and your sons to help me.”

“My sons?! Celeborn?! They are here?”

Thranduil fully expected Elrond to walk away to welcome his long awaited sons, but instead Elrond stayed exactly where he was. And then he started to laugh. A sound that Thranduil had never heard before and loved right from the spot.

“I didn’t mean that either.”

“Then I don’t know what you mean.”

Elrond shook his head. He was still smiling and his eyes shone. And all the while he held onto Thranduil.

“Maybe I don’t know myself what I meant.” He laughed again and now Thranduil had to smile, too. “But you can’t imagine how glad I am that you are finally here!”

With that he pulled Thranduil again into his arms. And Thranduil didn’t say, that this time Elrond was wrong for he could indeed imagine how glad Elrond was, maybe just as glad as he was about being able to be near Elrond again. He closed his eyes and just allowed himself to enjoy Elrond’s closeness and his body to relax against Elrond’s strong body. He couldn’t deny the fact that the journey and the emotional stress of the last years had tired his body and mind and he was glad that he had finally arrived in the safe haven that were Elrond’s arms. And only after a while did Elrond end the embrace.

“Maybe I should welcome my sons and Celeborn.”, Elrond said and Thranduil nodded.

“Maybe you should do so.”

Even though he enjoyed the togetherness with Elrond he knew he had no right to keep the Peredhel away from his family longer than absolutely necessary. And right now it wasn’t necessary at all. He didn’t even know if Elrond wanted to talk about that letter he had sent to him the day Elrond had sailed. So he would leave that decision to Elrond. If Elrond wanted to talk then he would talk else he would keep silent and his feelings to himself. He could keep silent.

“Are you coming?”, Elrond suddenly asked and startled him out of his thoughts.

Elrond had already walked a few steps towards the house and was now waiting for him.

“Of course. Excuse me.”

And so he followed Elrond into the house.

 

###

 

They had assembled in a comfortable living room. Thranduil retreated to one of the corners, where a carafe of wine was standing on a sideboard and where he was out of earshot. He needed some time alone. Being in constant company was tiring even if it had been agreeable company. But the many sleepless nights and the constant worries were finally catching up with him. He was tired…

He took the carafe and filled himself a glass of wine and watched Elrond embracing his two sons for the first time after being separated for five hundred years and he watched Elrond embracing his father-in-law. He felt so out of place. This was Elrond’s family and Legolas, the dwarf and he himself were just intruders. And even though it was breaking his heart he had to admit that this was a happy family and he and his son and his son’s friend didn’t belong here. It was for the best to leave this house as soon as possible, he decided and took a gulp of wine. It tasted awful. He looked at the glass in his hand with disgust. Obviously the Valar didn’t even know how to make decent wine.

And while he was still thinking about how bad this wine actually was another person entered the room and let him forget everything about the wine. He had returned from the Halls of Mandos… Thranduil nearly broke the glass in his hand and watched as Elrond introduced his sons to Ereinion and then led Ereinion to Celeborn. Both of them knew each other already and Celeborn greeted Ereinion with a bow of his head. They exchanged a few words and then Elrond pointed towards him. Ereinion turned and their eyes met for the first time in nearly four millennia and Thranduil tried to control the rage that rose in his chest upon seeing one of the persons he hated most. First Ereinion seemed to be surprised to see him here but then he came over to him. All eyes were fixed on them and Thranduil saw the apprehension in Elrond’s eyes. And it broke his heart: He didn’t want to cause Elrond any discomfort. He wanted Elrond not to have to worry. So for Elrond’s sake he would try to reign in his temper like he had done before.

“King Thranduil. Standing close to the wine, I see.”, Ereinion said and pointed to the carafe.

Thranduil didn’t acknowledge him with a bow. He would never bow to this person! He rather fought the urge to throw the contents of his wine glass in his face.

“I think you will be glad to hear that you don’t have to call me king anymore. I abdicated. And even though this wine is disgusting it would be a waste to throw it in your face, Ereinion.”

Thranduil noticed that the other residents of the room had started another conversation but some of them were still in high alert, those who knew about the hatred between them. And he was sure they were ready to intervene as soon as it was necessary.

“So you are calling me Ereinion now?”

Thranduil focused again at the abhorred person in front of him.

“Yes, because I don’t acknowledge you as my king and you certainly are no star of high radiance to me. But the spawn of kings you might be.”

“So must I call you ‘the King who was unfit to wear a crown’? I heard that you lost your crown again, during the Battle of Five Armies. Wasn’t it also you who lost the crown of the Woodland Realm during the Last Alliance?”

“They took my father’s head.”, Thranduil forced out between gritted teeth, the glass in his hand shacking.

Another word and he wouldn’t just throw the contents of that glass into Ereinion’s face. Ereinion sighed.

“Look.”, he said, his voice now soft. “We can go on like this, trying to hurt each other, trying to disgrace each other or you could just listen to me for a moment… for Elrond’s sake.”

Thranduil looked at the Noldo in front of him in surprise, wondering what he was up to but slowly nodded… for Elrond’s sake.

“Go ahead then. I am listening.”

“All I know about you Elrond told me, not because he wanted to ridicule you, but because he wanted me to see you, the person behind the King of the Woodland Realm, the person he considered a friend, a person he loved dearly. Because he knew I only ever knew the cold and distant king you were, that king that opposed everything I said, that king that shattered my nerve. There were times I just wanted to…” Ereinion let the sentence unfinished but Thranduil knew perfectly well what Ereinion had wanted to do to him, most likely the very same he had wanted to do to the Noldo. “But I want you to know, that I am sorry for what happened to you and your father during the Last Alliance as I am sorry for what happened to all the elves that went to war against Sauron. I, you and your father, we all made decisions on this battlefield we later regretted.”

Thranduil wasn’t able to say anything. Ereinion had caught him totally off guard. So Ereinion continued.

“And I have to apologize especially to you because I simply didn’t know how to handle you and your unique character. That character of yours Elrond cherishes so much. I had never been confronted with someone in my own ranks speaking his mind so frankly without paying any attention to courtesy. But now I know I should have looked deeper. Elrond told me about what happened to you and I have to admit that first I didn’t believe him for I have seen you fight. And now that I know of your injury and I see you standing here, having survived the Last Alliance and the War of the Ring, having successfully led an Elven kingdom through the Third Age without a Ring of Power I can only say, I am deeply impressed.”

Thranduil couldn’t believe his ears and just starred at Ereinion with utter disbelieve.

“And since Elrond is my closest friend and you are very dear to him I am willing to try and make amends.” And suddenly Ereinion laughed. “Actually I even have to thank you. It is because of you that I have a chance at happiness, now that Celebrian is free.”

Celebrian was free?! That was the moment when Thranduil finally found his voice again.

“What do you mean with ‘Celebrian is free’?”

Suddenly Ereinion’s face fell.

“You don’t know? I thought you already talked to Elrond.”

“What do you mean with ‘Celebrian is free’?”, Thranduil repeated this time more forcefully but Ereinion averted his eyes and suddenly he was eager to leave.

“You better ignore what I just said.”, he whispered and then he was off, seeking the company of Celeborn.

Thranduil averted his eyes and let them wander to Elrond, who was standing next to his twin sons and Celebrian. But now that he took a closer look and observed them for a while he couldn’t detect any closeness between Elrond and Celebrian. They were standing next to each other but not like a loving couple. It is because of you that I have a chance at happiness, now that Celebrian is free. He dared not to hope, but maybe… just maybe…

 

###

 

It was later that evening that he found himself and Elrond alone on the balcony. Legolas and Gimli had wandered off with Elrond’s twins and Celebrian had accompanied her parents to the library. And he found that he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to know for sure.

“So, you and your wife…”

Elrond sighed.

“We found that the time we spent apart, has altered our hearts as well. There is still love between us. I still care for her deeply but not like I should as her husband. I knew it the moment I stepped on these shores. Her mother had warned her that this might happen, if she sailed. She sailed nonetheless.”

“She was scarred mentally and physically.”

He didn’t know why he defended Elrond’s wife.

“As were you and still are, but you stayed, for your son’s and your kin’s sake.”

“Because I had no other option! Where was I to go? To Valinor were there would be nothing for me but the very same beings that were responsible for what happened to me? My father told me while he was dying in my arms that he would never leave the Halls of Mandos even if he would be allowed to do so.”

“Then tell me, Thranduil, why did you come now?”

Thranduil sighed, looking over the gardens and the forest that lay before him.

“There was nothing left to do for me in Middle-earth.”

"Thranduil…”

Thranduil turned his head slightly so Elrond could see his profile.

“No further lies between us. Why did you come to Valinor, when you wouldn’t tire of telling me that you would never consider sailing?”

He saw Thranduil closing his eyes for a second and taking in a deep breath, before opening them again.

“I had to see you! My heart and my mind were aching for you. I had this emptiness in my heart, which wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t bear it any longer. Even though I had to assume that you would be happy with your wife. Even though I had to assume that there would be no place for me here. But you told me, you would be waiting for me, so I risked everything, just to see you again, to be close to you again, to get this emptiness, which was eating my heart alive, filled again.”

“You gave up your rank and title for me even though you had to assume that it might be in vain?”

“Of what help is a kingdom to you, when your heart is slowly dying? Deep in my heart I trusted you and your words, for you have never let me down in the past.”

Elrond swallowed hard. Here he was, Thranduil, former proud Elvenking, standing in front of him, having made the ultimate sacrifice, so now it was up to him to make the ultimate leap of faith.

“So you felt it too? You felt it too, that there was something between us, something more than just friendship?”

Thranduil turned away again, looking out again over the vast forest.

“Tell me, Thranduil! Tell me that giving up your kingdom, giving up your resolution to never sail to Valinor, against all odds, means that you too felt it!”

For a few seconds Elrond waited in vain. Thranduil didn’t say anything, but then he turned around, facing the Peredhel.

“I felt it too, but I don’t know where it is headed.”

“But it was enough to make you abdicate the throne and to leave Middle-earth?”

“Yes.”

Elrond let go of the breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. He walked over to Thranduil, leaning on the balustrade next to the former King of the Woodland Realm.

“I too do not know where it is headed, but having you here with me, close to me, makes my heart leap for joy.”

He turned to Thranduil.

“Stay with me, here in this house! Let us see where these feelings lead us!”

Thranduil turned towards him, facing him.

“I crossed the Misty Mountains, half of Middle-earth and the Sundering Seas to see you again, because of this nagging feeling in my heart. What makes you think I would leave this house, now that I am finally standing here in front of you, exactly where my journey should have ended?”, Thranduil asked flippantly. “Even though this house already seems to be awfully crowded with former rulers of Elven Realms.”

Elrond smiled ignoring the last statement for he was certain this house could take in another former ruler. And with the former Lord and Lady of Lothlórien, the former Lady of Imladris, his sons and himself as former Lords of Imladris, Legolas as former Prince of the Woodland Realm and Ereinion, High King of the Noldor as a frequent guest, a former King was exactly what was still missing to complete the set.

“There has been a time when you hated every second you had to spend in my company.”

“Indeed? I think this land has had a bad influence on your memory, Peredhel, for I don’t recall any such moment.”, Thranduil answered in jest.

Elrond’s smile turned into a smirk.

“On the contrary, I still remember the look in your eyes. There were times when I was sure you would have strangled me if given the chance.”

Thranduil pretended to think about it.

“Maybe you are right. I can recall one or two such occasions, when –“

“One or two?!”, Elrond interjected. “That is barely enough to account for one day, Elvenking.”

It had slipped his mouth before he even knew it. His heart sank as Thranduil turned away, pain evident in his eyes.

“I am sorry, Thranduil.”

“Don’t be. It was my decision, now I have to live with it.”

Elrond swallowed hard. What if he had pressed Thranduil into coming to Valinor? What if Thranduil would hold him accountable? Then there wouldn’t be any hope for them. Their relationship would be tainted from the beginning.

“If I pressed you into –“

“No! This I know, I came because I wanted to not because you wanted me to. That is why it took me so long to follow you. I had to make sure it was what I wanted, not what everyone wanted me to do. I just need some time to adjust.”

“I am going to help you.”

But Thranduil just shook his head and turned his head to face Elrond again.

“Your companionship is all I need.”

“And I am going to give it to you wholeheartedly.”

 

###

 

Elrond entered the hall that was reserved for taking meals. His family, now complete save for his daughter, was already assembled and had started to eat, but they stopped when he entered, most of them looking at him expectantly. He sighed and thanked Eru that Thranduil had fallen asleep and thus would be spared the inquisition that was likely to ensue. He smiled, when it occurred to him that most likely nobody would dare to do what they were doing right now, if Thranduil had also been present. Having the reputation of being cold, distant and unforgiving obviously had its advantages.

“Where is my father?”

Legolas sounded worried and Elrond assumed that he feared he had rejected Thranduil and thus Thranduil had fled.

“He fell asleep. He was quite exhausted after the tiring journey.”

“Obviously not enough. The way he opposed Manwë…”, Celeborn stated.

Elrond took a seat.

“He mentioned something like that. But he didn’t tell me what he did exactly.”

Elrohir volunteered and recounted the meeting between Manwë and Thranduil.

“They won’t exile him, will they?”, Legolas asked now deeply worried for his father.

But Elrond shook his head.

“They won’t. They know what he went through, what horrors he had to witness like so many others and why he feels what he feels. They will not deny him the chance to heal.”

Legolas obviously was satisfied with this answer for he started to eat again and Elrond followed his example as did Galadriel, who was smiling knowingly. He knew that she already knew what had happened between him and Thranduil.

“Is he going to stay with us?”, Elladan asked innocently, but Elrond knew his twins well enough to know what the actual question was behind that innocent one and yet it surprised him that they knew. Obviously everyone had known Thranduil’s and his own feelings before they had known them themselves. And suddenly he was so very proud of his sons because even though they had obviously known that something had occurred between Thranduil and him before he had left for Valinor they had accompanied Thranduil to Valinor, even though they might have realized that this could mean the end of their parents’ relationship. And now that this was the case they weren’t angry but sympathetic. They had put his happiness above their own, above their wish of having a family with the bond between Celebrian and him intact. He hadn’t realized that they had grown so much. And all the people now sitting with him here at this table would support his relationship with Thranduil that he knew and he loved them all the more.

“He will stay and he will be at my side.”

“So you tamed the King of the Woodland Realm.”

“I did no such thing. This side of his has been there all along. You simply didn’t notice it. You just saw the arrogance for what it was and not as a partial result of the pain and horror he had experienced in his past.”

 

###

 

Elrond stood there for a few moments, watching Thranduil sleep peacefully, his silver-blond hair cascading down over his shoulders. Thranduil was beautiful. Elrond bent over and carefully he took one strand of the silver-golden hair that was so different from his own in his hand. It was soft to the touch like silk and he let it run through his fingers, enjoying the peaceful moment. Suddenly a hand was placed on his. It was Thranduil’s. And for the blink of a second Elrond feared he had gone too far too quickly and that Thranduil would slap his hand away but to his surprise and his heart’s joy, Thranduil tenderly intertwined his fingers with Elrond’s. Then he opened his pale blue eyes, focusing on Elrond.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“Don’t worry. I guess I am going to have enough time to sleep now that I am here.”

Elrond smiled.

“Yes, I guess so. And enough time to heal and to read, if you wish so.”

Thranduil’s gaze dropped to Elrond’s hand he was still holding.

“You got rid of it.”

Erlond knew perfectly well to what Thranduil was referring.

“Partially. It is still in this house. I couldn’t throw it away. It is a remainder of all that I went through, of the good things I was able to do, of all the people I was able to help and to heal. But now that it has lost its power it is nothing more than a mere ring and I am glad that I can leave it unattended in a normal box in my chambers."

Neither of them said anything for a short while but then it was Thranduil who revived the conversation.

“So I do have enough time to read now.”

“Yes, plenty.”

Thranduil looked up again.

“Is this how you have spent your days here?”

“Yes, mostly. Reading and writing.” … and waiting for you.

But he would say the last one out loud for he didn’t want to hurt Thranduil.

“Writing?”

Elrond swallowed.

“Yes, writing… I wrote some letters to you. Every time I so desperately wanted to talk to you, I wrote down what I wanted to tell you for you to read it in the future.”

“Even though it told you I wouldn’t come.”

“Yes, I did it nonetheless…”

“Why?”

“I felt closer to you in doing so.”

“No, why did you believe in me coming, even though I told you otherwise?”

Elrond smiled a sad smile.

“Because I had to believe that you would come eventually. I had to believe that I would see you again otherwise my heart would have broken.”

Thranduil let go of his hand and for the blink of a second Elrond’s heart stopped. Had he gone too far? Had he conveyed too much? But he noticed soon enough that Thranduil was looking for something hidden in his tunic. When he found it he presented it to Elrond.

“I think you should add that to your collection.”

Elrond took the letter from Thranduil looking at Thranduil in utter disbelief. He knew what it was. He knew it perfectly well.

“You kept it all this time?”

“These two words were two of the very few things that reminded me of you. Of course I kept them.”

Elrond got to his feet and went over to his desk, feeling Thranduil’s eyes on his back. He opened one of the drawers of his desk and took a thick leather wrapper out of it. He put it on the desk, opened it and tenderly added the letter Thranduil had just given to him. Then he put the wrapper back and when he looked up again his eyes met Thranduil’s ice-blue eyes. They told him how tired Thranduil really was.

“Were these the letters you have written to me?”

Elrond nodded.

“So many?”

Again Elrond nodded.

“And more. This was just the first pile… spanning the first fifty years. So you have plenty to read.”

“Did you miss me that much?”

Elrond averted his eyes and thus told Thranduil everything he needed to know.

“Elrond.” Elrond went back to Thranduil, who hadn’t moved an inch during the whole conversation. Thranduil reached out for Elrond and Elrond took Thranduil’s hand.

“Do you remember what you told me, the last time we talked in Middle-earth?”, Thranduil asked. Elrond nodded his head. How could he ever forget? It was burnt into his memory forever.

“It was my heart that wept until today.”, Thranduil said quietly.

Elrond squeezed his hand.

“We will never part again.”

“Promise me. I don’t want to feel like this ever again.”

Elrond bent further down, laying his forehead onto Thranduil’s.

“I promise. And now sleep, Vigorous Spring. Your journey has finally come to an end.”

 

###

 

Now some notes, but don’t forget the after-the-credits-scene!^^

 

Notes

I think Ereinion making the first step was only logical since I think Thranduil would have never ever made the first step being the stubborn elf he is.^^

The Manwë scene. I don’t know how plausible it is for Manwe to welcome the Wise of Middle-earth but I really wanted Thranduil to meet Manwe so I decided to put it in here. I wasn’t sure which hair color Manwe should have. I mean really white hair looks awesome and would go better with him being Lord of the Breath of Arda but I like the idea of him having black hair better so I went with it. And I really needed this “I told you so” from Olórin.^^

Why is Gimli still here but there is no sign of Frodo and the others. Okay, here’s the thing. I am sorry if I offend anyone. I hate Frodo. I don’t remember how he was in the books but in the movies… oh my god, how I hated all the Master Frodo… Sam… Master Frodo… Sam… scenes… arg… On the other hand I really liked the dynamic between Legolas and Gimli… I only have to say: the box scene at the beginning of the battle in Helm’s Deep!!! I like Gimli and that’s why I couldn’t kill him off.^^

And now have fun with the last scene of this story!

 

###

 

~ Five years later ~

 

The sun was shining brightly and Elrond had decided to use this warm and sunny day to reply to the letters he had received from Círdan and Olórin with whom he corresponded frequently. So he had asked Lindir to help him carry a table onto the balcony and had just begun to write to Olórin when Thranduil had found him on the balcony. And after asking for permission to keep him company Thranduil had brought another chair and now sat next to the table and was reading a book.

Every once in a while Elrond would risk a quick glance at Thranduil, who had turned his chair slightly away from the table in order to have enough room to cross his long legs. The sun was bathing Thranduil in its golden light giving his silver-golden hair a beautiful gleam. And Elrond had to admit, even though he had never thought it possible, that in those past five years since his arrival Thranduil had become even more beautiful. Now that his mental scars had begun to heal. And he wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

When they had been to Tirion it hadn’t escaped Elrond’s notice that Thranduil had attracted the attention of numerous female and male elves. It had disturbed Elrond to a great extent and yet he didn’t want to call it jealousy… even though he knew it was. But his worries had been baseless. Thranduil might have opened up to him and to a limited number of elves he knew very well, elves that were living with him in this house but beyond that he had never shown any interest in other elves. To them he still was the cold and distant elf he had been for many millennia and so he drove these elves away with a single look of his ice-blue eyes openly conveying utter disinterest without any care about false politeness. And Elrond’s heart leaped for joy because he was the only one Thranduil had ever shown his true self.

He risked another glance at Thranduil and let his eyes linger just for a second on Thranduil’s noble and elegant profile. Then Thranduil raised his hand to put a stray strand of his hair back behind his ear. He still wore his hair loose without any braids and now after his abdication without any diadem but Elrond knew that the one diadem he had given to Thranduil after Thranduil had lost his own one during the Battle of Five Armies was here in Valinor. Thranduil had brought it with him as one of the few belongings he had brought to Valinor. And Elrond had been truly honored by this gesture. To know that something he had given to Thranduil was cherished by that very person… Suddenly Thranduil closed the book rather forcefully and Elrond quickly looked back down at the letter he had been writing. Thranduil sighed.

“I have read this book three times already and it has only been five years.”

Elrond smiled and raised his head. Thranduil was looking at him.

“By now I know the books in your library by heart.”

He dropped the book unceremoniously on the table and got to his feet, walking over to the balustrade.

“How did you survive five hundred years in this forsaken land, where nothing ever happens and nothing will ever happen for all eternity.”

Thranduil leaned on the balustrade for a few seconds before turning around.

“This land is driving me crazy!”

Their gazes locked and Elrond saw the desperation in Thranduil’s eyes, the same desperation he had felt at the beginning after realizing that there was nothing to do here in Valinor, nothing similar to what he had done in Middle-earth day by day. Among those who had come from Middle-earth this desperation was well known, well known before they had finally settled it, before they had relearned how to just live and enjoy the simple live. At the beginning they had all clung to the habits they had had in Middle-earth where every minute had counted, where every minute had been spent fighting Sauron or worrying for those they loved. In Middle-earth resting just for one minute too long could have resulted in the downfall of a whole realm.

But here in Valinor things were different. There was no evil lurking in the shadows. There was no ever present danger. And thus there was no need to plan, to arm, to strategize, to ally, to protect, to be aware of what happened round you every second of the day. But he also knew that relearning what would have meant one’s imminent death in Middle-earth was hard and yet he knew that Thranduil would eventually come around.

“I am surprised that you lasted that long. I only lasted three years.”, he said with a smile. “But since I have been expecting this I already made some plans.”

Thranduil crossed his arms.

“I am listening.”

Elrond took the book.

“We could go to Tirion and restock the library.”

Thranduil’s face fell and Elrond really had to fight the laughter that was threatening to erupt from within him.

“Or…”

He let the book fall on the table.

“You are taxing my patience, Peredhel.”

“We could take the horses and some supplies and leave the house for a few days or weeks, even months, if you like. No responsibilities, no haste.”

Just like when we were young, free and uncommitted. He was sure Thranduil hadn’t done anything like that for quite a few millennia… camping in the forest without being afraid to be killed by a horde of orcs, staying away as long as one wished, no realm waiting for one to return as soon as possible. He looked at Thranduil.

“When can we leave?” Elrond put his quill down.

“Immediately.”

Another advantage of not being responsible of a whole kingdom anymore.

 

###

 

Elrond led his horse out of the stables, where he had saddled it and where Celeborn and Galadriel were still saddling their horses. In the end everyone except for Celebrian and Ereinion had decided to join them, something he was very happy about for he couldn’t remember a time when most of the people he loved and considered his family had undertaken anything together besides going to war. But half of the party was still missing. He sighed and tied the reins to a post.

Elrond looked over to Thranduil who was already on his horse and right now tried to arrange the sleeping bag that was fastened to the saddle. Elrond just wanted to go over to him and assist but Lindir was already by Thranduil’s side before Elrond had taken the first step. And with Lindir’s help the problem was solved very quickly. But then out of the corner of his eyes he saw something or so he thought.

“Thranduil, wait!”, he called and Thranduil who had been just about to lead his horse away from the stables, halted his horse.

He turned to Elrond, while Elrond was already walking over to him.

“What is it?”, Thranduil asked, when Elrond took the reins of the horse to hold it in place.

The horse seemed to be a little nervous and was prancing slightly. The horse had always been a very unstable one and because of that it had ultimately become Thranduil’s horse. Thranduil was a very good horseman and his mostly calm and composed demeanor had a calming influence on the fidgety horse so that he had no problem controlling the horse.

“I don’t know. I thought I saw something.”

He took a closer look at the saddle girth but he couldn’t detect anything wrong. Obviously he had just imagined things.

“Elrond!”

Elrond straightened and turned his head towards the main entrance, from where his name had been called. Celebrian was standing on the stairs.

“Yes?”

He couldn’t simultaneously concentrate on his wife and the horse, which was still prancing at his side, so he put his right hand on its side to prevent it from stepping on his feet.

“Elladan wanted me to tell you that he will be ready as soon as he has found his bow.”

“He has lost his bow?! In his chamber?!” Elrond sighed. “Is this his way of telling me that he wants a smaller chamber?”

Celebrian smiled.

“I rather think Elrohir played a trick on his brother and hid the bow somewhere in the house but since they haven’t needed their bows for quite a while he totally forgot about it.”

Elrond frowned.

“Is that so?” He sighed again. “Tell them we are waiting. We are saddling their horses already. But they better hurry!”

Celebrian nodded.

“I will tell them. At least Legolas and Gimli are helping them.”

She disappeared into the house and Elrond turned back to Thranduil shaking his head in disbelieve.

“Sometimes I really wonder…”

He looked up at Thranduil who was looking at him and smiling.

“Your sons are quite a handful.”

“Yes, they are. But I am glad that they haven’t lost their good spirit during the War of the Ring.”

Only then did he notice that he wasn’t feeling any fur beneath his right hand, but smooth fabric. He let his gaze drop to where his hand lay. It lay on Thranduil’s thigh and had obviously lain there for the whole time. He let it drop to his side immediately.

“I should go and saddle their horses.”

With that he turned away.

“I will help.”, he heard Thranduil say, while he walked over to the stables looking at his right hand.

He knew that the desire to be near Thranduil had increased during the last few years and yet he hadn’t know that it had already slipped his control. He had to be careful! What if he was to fast? He couldn’t risk driving Thranduil away, because he had no control over his hands.

 

###

 

Elrond was riding a few meters behind Celeborn and Thranduil. After riding next to Thranduil and Celeborn for quite a while and talking with them he had slowed down his horse in order to drop back. He was relieved about how well Thranduil had blended in with the rest of the residents of his house. His calm demeanor, although in high contrast to Elladan’s, Elrohir’s, Legolas’ and Gimli’s demeanor, went very well with the rest of the household, especially with Celeborn and Galadriel. And it was with Celeborn that Thranduil had developed a rather deep friendship, united by their love for Middle-earth and their feeling of being strangers in this foreign land. And it was nice to have another calming influence in a house were three young elves and one young-at-heart dwarf resided. And even the everlasting quarrel between Thranduil and Ereinion had obviously been somewhat settled. He knew that after their first contact after nearly four millennia they had gone from simple sufferance to civil togetherness and Elrond was sure that with time they might even become friends. He had been rather relieved when their first meeting had been so civil. He still remembered very well how anxious he had been on the day of Thranduil’s arrival for he had known that their first meeting had been imminent, since Ereinion had been staying in the house. Deep down in his heart he had feared that upon their first meeting they might draw their swords and settle it there and then. And yet to his surprise nothing like that had happened and he was still thanking Eru for this every time he thought about it again.

He watched Thranduil’s back, which was mostly covered by his silky hair. And one could easily see by his posture that Thranduil was an excellent horseman as well as an excellent warrior. He had also brought his twin swords to Valinor and one of these two swords was now fastened to the saddle, ready to be drawn at any moment, although Elrond knew this moment would never come, not here in Valinor. But he knew old habits die hard and Thranduil wasn’t ready yet to fully believe in the peaceful land that was Valinor. There was no use for swords her in Valinor. The only weapons that were of any use here were bow and arrow in order to hunt for what was needed. But he also knew that Thranduil wasn’t alone. He knew that Celeborn was also carrying some throwing knives although not as openly as Thranduil. And yet they had already come a long way in such a short time. Just today when he had watched Thranduil saddling Gimli’s pony he had tried to imagine Thranduil’s reaction if he had told him back then in Middle-earth that in a few centuries he would be saddling a dwarf’s pony in Valinor. Thranduil would have tried to kill him or at least would have ignored him for a few centuries. Elrond smiled. Yes indeed, he could imagine that. The forest suddenly ended and gave way to a vast field of high grass. He heard sudden cries of joy and excitement before he saw three young elves breaking out of the forest in full gallop followed by an eager pony to which a dwarf was desperately clinging to.

“Race to the oak!”, he heard Elrohir shout and then he saw Celeborn uttering something to Thranduil before urging his horse into a full gallop.

Although he was already far behind Elrond knew better than to underestimate Celeborn. He was a splendid horseman. It didn’t take long for him to pass Gimli and then Galadriel who had been riding up front. Elrond saw him turning his body around in full gallop and calling something to his wife. He knew what it was… a challenge and he also knew that the woman, who had not been called Nerwen for nothing by her own mother, would not back down from such a challenge. And Celeborn of course knew it, too. So it didn’t surprise him when Galadriel’s horse was soon galloping over the grass as well. Since Celeborn’s arrival Galadriel had changed so very much. Freed from the Doom of Mandos and from the responsibility of bearing Nenya and home again with her husband and her daughter at her side she had regained much of the lightheartedness he was certain she had lost before and during the crossing of the Helcaraxë and never regained till now.

He urged his horse into a fast trot to catch up with Thranduil and slowed it down again when he had reached him. Thranduil was watching the race and Elrond followed his gaze. While it was not surprising that Gimli was last, it was surprising to see that Elladan was already second to last and that Galadriel had already passed Celeborn. Celeborn hadn’t done himself any favors challenging his wife. But Elrond knew that Elladan had never been such a good horseman. Even though they might appear to outsiders like two of a kind he knew them too well. In some areas they were very different from each other. And Elrohir was a very good horseman and right now he was up front neck and neck with Legolas.

“This trip already paid off. Now I can tease Elladan about losing to his grandfather and to his grandmother.”

“But Elrohir is a very good horseman. In some areas their abilities differ very much.”

Elrond looked at Thranduil in surprise.

“You noticed?”

Thranduil turned his head to look at him.

“Of course. I still have one good eye I am willing to use. I like to observe people in order to read them. It makes your life a lot easier especially so if you are a king. If you know how people tick, what they desire it is easy to manipulate them into doing what you want without openly saying so, without straining political relations. And even though I have no use for manipulation anymore, reading others still is very useful.”

Elrond had to avert his eyes, the piercing glance of Thranduil’s ice-blue eyes was just too much for him right now. He looked over to the old oak, which was still in the distance. Everyone except for Gimli had already finished the race. But the dwarf sat proudly on his small pony and was welcomed with open arms when he finally reached the oak. Everyone had dismounted and obviously they had decided to rest for a while, because some of the horses were already grazing without their saddles. Elrohir was waving and Legolas and Celeborn were watching them. He was just about to urge his horse on, when suddenly Thranduil’s hand grabbed his arm. It took Elrond by surprise because he hadn’t noticed that Thranduil had come so close.

“Elrond.”

He looked at Thranduil who met his gaze and simultaneously slowed his horse. Elrond followed his lead simply because he had to because Thranduil was still grabbing his arm. Their horses came to a halt next to each other, his leg nearly touching Thranduil’s. He swallowed hard.

“I am sorry that I have kept you waiting.”

And with that Thranduil leant over to him, tilting his head a little to the side and finally Thranduil’s lips met his and Elrond’s heart skipped a beat. He forgot everything around him, the nearby forest, the field they were standing on, the old oak in the distance, the others standing around that very same oak and his horse. There were only he and Thranduil who grounded him with the grip on his arm. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing except for Thranduil, the center of his thoughts and feelings. So he closed his eyes, shutting out the world around him and just felt Thranduil, his lips that were so much softer than Elrond had anticipated and his strong hand, a hand that had fought so many battles, holding his arm in a tender way.

Thranduil’s smell filled his nose, this scent he loved so much. The rich earthy scent of a thick forest after the first rain, the pleasant fresh scent of a blossoming forest in spring, scents he had always associated with Greenwood the Great, Thranduil’s Realm, the Realm Thranduil would always carry in his heart. This very Realm Thranduil had left for him, to be at his side. He took a deep breath out of relief, relief he still felt every time when he remembered how uncertain Thranduil’s coming to Valinor had been, when he remembered what it had cost Thranduil to come to the Undying Lands, a land that hadn’t called to him, a land he had no ties to. But he had come nonetheless. He felt the pounding of his heart quicken. Thranduil was here and they had all the time they might need, but Elrond was tired of waiting. One hundred years might be a mere blink in the life of an elf but even a blink was too long after waiting desperately for a loved one. He loved Thranduil. He wanted to be close to Thranduil, wanted to be able to touch him without fear of driving him away, wanted to touch Thranduil’s soft skin, wanted to taste him.

He parted his lips and to his surprise Thranduil took the bait and their tongues met. Elrond let go of the reins, he had been holding with his left hand and put it on Thranduil’s side, desperately clinging to Thranduil’s tunic. He felt Thranduil’s grip on his arm tightening so much that nearly hurt, but he couldn’t care less. And suddenly he felt Thranduil’s right hand on his left cheek, a soft touch, like a tender caress but then Thranduil let it slide to the back of his head, pulling them closer together. And so they stayed until Thranduil slowly released Elrond’s head and slowly ended the kiss only to put his head on Elrond’s shoulder, resting his cheek on Elrond’s, skin on skin. Elrond put his hand tenderly on Thranduil’s back, bringing them closer together, feeling the shallow but quick breaths Thranduil was taking, as was he himself. And for another while they stayed exactly like this, Elrond holding Thranduil and Thranduil holding onto Elrond’s arm. Until Thranduil’s horse nickered, throwing his head in the air and slightly reared.

Thranduil quickly let go of Elrond’s arm and took the reins, whispering words of comfort to the agitated horse. And as soon as the horse was calm again Thranduil turned to him again. They looked at each other. Their breathing still going a little faster than usual. And when Elrond saw the smile on Thranduil’s lips he laughed. It was a liberating laughter because his heart was leaping for joy, because he felt so happy, because he was utterly and perfectly happy. He pulled Thranduil into his arms, hugging him, feeling him, smelling him, sensing him and when he felt Thranduil’s arms around him, holding him, he felt complete… finally.

 

~ The End ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> And for those who might wonder: I think for their first time (which still is some time ahead) Elrond would be on top considering this story, but they would alternate afterwards. ;-)


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